Kingdom Come
by Exilo
Summary: The treaty between the humans and the Sangheili is barely holding and the slightest act of hostility could reignite the war. When a Sangheili civilian vessel is attacked, its crew slaughtered, Shipmaster Rtas needs to bring the guilty to justice.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm sure that this plot has been done before, I've read at least two other accounts, but I feel like I can do something new, maybe better. Please, just give it a chance, and leave a review with any suggestions.**

_Chapter 1_

"Please, reconsider."

The Arbiter laced his finger in a disgustingly human gesture that implied deep thought. "This isn't a punishment, brother."

Rtas snapped his remaining mandibles in an obvious show of annoyance. "I am sorry, but it feels as if I am being punished. To operate with the humans. To trust my life to them. The mission itself is not what bothers me. I understand the necessity of bringing these cowards and heretics to justice. But please, allow me to bring my own squad, Sangheili that I trust, that trust me. To expect me to work with the humans, that is too far."

The Arbiter nodded understandingly. "You do not trust them at all?"

"No brother, I am not ashamed to say that I do not. They have proven themselves brave and cunning and cooperative. But they have also shown themselves to be shortsighted and thoughtless, brutal and savage. I understood the need to align with them when the threat of the Flood and the Jiralhanae was imminent. I understand our continued cooperation; they have earned our help and loyalty. I respect them, but that does not mean I trust them."

"If the Master Chief was not lost, would you operate alongside him?"

"Yes, but I would always fear that he would put a bullet in my blindside," Rtas said sharply.

The Arbiter sighed. Truth be told, he understood his old friend's fears well. The Master Chief, Johnson, the human grunts that he worked alongside, he could never shake a feeling that they were plotting, waiting for him to let his guard down. Perhaps his fears were unrealized. With their enemies dead, the Arbiter and his remaining men were permitted to escape Earth and return home for the first time in what felt like decades. But that could just as easily be explained: they were still waiting, still plotting. Always waiting, always plotting.

As if sensing his doubt, Rtas pushed the question further. "Suppose this isn't a fringe group. Suppose this isn't some zealots who still disapprove of the treaty. Suppose this has been the human's plan all along. The Prophets, the Jiralhanae, and the Flood are removed. It is us and them."

"They are still far too weak to wage a war against us," the Arbiter countered.

"Which is why they are dealing in terrorism. Why they are chipping away at our soldiers. How many ships have we lost the past week? Ships of our soldiers, of our civilians. Perhaps, eventually, they will target you. Perhaps this entire request for one of us is a ploy to get to me."

The Arbiter chuckled. "That is very egotistical of you. Do you really believe that you are worth an assassin's bullet?"

Rtas allowed himself a chuckle. "I don't mean to brag, but I _am _shipmaster of the _Shadow of Intent_. I think my head could fetch quite a high price."

"Of course, brother. And I am the Arbiter. I am of a higher rank than you are. I think you have to do what I say. Please, make no mistake, I do this because you are the only one that I can trust with such an operation. I would do it myself, but I am tied up with these blasted politics. You, on the other hand, have much more free time than I. We are not presently at war with anyone, what is a shipmaster's place in a time of peace?"

Rtas rubbed his eyes. "I will not do this because of your rank, brother, I will do it because of our friendship. Because I trust you." He thought to himself. "But if I fall victim to the human's treachery, I will be one angry spirit."

"Of course."

---

"What is your name?" Rtas demanded. When the Unggoy stood there, dumbstruck and terrified, the shipmaster merely took him by the throat and gave him a furious shake.

"Kurr," the Unggoy cried, and he was set back down. "Everyone call me Kurr."

"An old comrade of mine vouches with his life for you."

The Unggoy stood very straight for a moment, as if he was trying to stand at attention. "I serve sir, as well as I can."

"Rtas," the Arbiter said, coming into the room. "You know the arrangement. You are not permitted to bring any Sangheili."

"I understand the arrangement fine, brother," Rtas said calmly. "The humans reason that if one Sangheili is equal to five humans, they should get five humans in a squad for one Sangheili. However, as you can plainly see," he said, tapping the missing portion of his face, "I am not a complete Sangheili. The Unggoy is equal to an eighth of a human. That is .025 of a Sangheili." He looked down at pitiful little methane breather that stood cowering at his hooves. "No offense."

"None taken, sir."

"The humans will not like this," the Arbiter sighed, though he had to admit, he enjoyed Rtas' logic. The humans had their loopholes, now the shipmaster had his own.

Rtas turned back to the Unggoy. "Commander Zulfar vouches for you, and I have the utmost respect for him. So I am going to let you in on everything. Have you any idea of the duty we have been charged with?"

"No sir, I do not."

Rtas sighed. "Three weeks ago we lost contact with a transport, the_ Blameless Grace. _We didn't know what to suspect. Perhaps it was targeted by pirates, or perhaps there was a simple malfunction in the system that killed any communications. It was not until two cycles ago that we found it, adrift in an uncharted sector. Its contents were stolen and its crew slaughtered, left where they lay. It was brutal in scale, the volume of lives lost, to say the least."

"Jiralhanae?" Kurr asked.

"Perhaps. But human weapons were used. Only, human weapons in fact. Not even the smears of blood that accompany the impact of a gravity hammer, or the disembodied limbs that are the result of a Jiralhanae going berserk."

Kurr swallowed nervously. "You suspect the humans?"

"Just suspect," Rtas assured, though there was a shifting in his eyes that spoke of something deeper.

"The bond between the Sangheili and the humans is not yet cemented. Something like this could, quite easily, tear our union apart and throw us back into war," the Arbiter explained. "Should we accuse them of our suspicion, or should our suspicions be proven true, the fall out could be devastating. However, we cannot leave our fallen, justice must be served."

"So we must tread carefully," Rtas said, but he said it in an odd way. It was as if he just wanted to appease his fellow Sangheili.

"The mission, Excellencies?"

"We will be working with a squad of humans to uncover the truth behind this little excursion. It will be our responsibility to remedy any complications that arise."  
The Unggoy gave an enthusiastic series of nods. "Yes sir."

"If you will excuse me," the Arbiter said. "I have other business to tend to. I just wish you luck on this mission. And try not to kill any of the humans while you are at it."

"Luck is no replacement for skill, brother. I cannot promise the other thing though."

**Not my best opening, but it will get better. Reviewers get a cookie.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"You have had experience with humans?" the shipmaster asked.

"Yes sir," Kurr said quickly.

"And what is your experience with them?"  
Kurr paused a moment, and thought back. Back to his time on Kali. To the one called Coffey, who was always calm and level headed and respectful, even to a creature as worthless as him. He also thought about the one named Nichols, the sadistic, cruel female who had shot his commanding officer at point blank range, who had dragged his commander off and inflicted any number of atrocities upon him.

"Experience is mixed sir. Just as experience has been mixed amongst you Sangheili."

"Feeling suicidal?" Rtas asked.

"Please sir, I meant no disrespect."

Rtas growled lowly. "Do not let your guard down around the humans."

"I know that lesson well, sir."

The transport lurched to a stop, Rtas staying calm but Kurr, lacking any semblance of balance, tumbled out of his chair and onto the ground. Rtas hoisted him to his feet with ease before leaving the cramped, almost escape pod sized ship that they had been riding in, nodding to the Sangheili pilot, who saluted.

The base was occupied almost solely by humans, who were clearly shocked to see a Sangheili walking through their ranks. They backed away, pressing themselves as far to the sides of the walls that they possibly could as he passed, then breathing a sigh of relief when they realized they still _could_ breathe. Kurr wondered if they knew who they were cowering from. No doubt to them all Sangheili looked alike, just as all humans looked alike to Sangheili. But certainly Rtas was recognizable, with his rather unique deformity. They must have known they were in the presence of the shipmaster. Such a high ranked officer to be gracing their ship, they should have been honored.

Rtas was a tad nervous about this whole affair. Miranda, perhaps the only human he could say he genuinely liked, was dead at Truth's hands. Johnson, who he didn't like too much, was also dead. He believed the Master Chief to be lost, but the Arbiter insisted that he was still out there, somewhere. That thought actually made him shiver. The point was the only human he had what could be called a relationship was Lord Hood, and the mutual discontent between the two would prevent any problems from being solved.

One of the humans didn't step aside fast enough, and was almost trampled beneath Rtas's hooves. He gave a low snarl and snap of his remaining mandibles. The human, for his part, shrieked submissively, and scurried to his side, panting in panic, shivering, holding his assorted files over him as if that would shield him from a blow. The human wasn't a particular bother to Rtas, but he felt he had an image to maintain.

"Shipmaster," a human female said loudly enough that she would be noticed. Petite was not the right word for her. Small was not the word either. The only term in his vocabulary that could possibly do this human justice was tiny, closer to Kurr in size than any other human Rtas had ever seen. She only came up to Rtas' waist. Yet despite this obvious, painful disadvantage, she didn't show the fear that the others did, at least not so blatantly. Oh, there was fear in her eyes and fear in her scent, but she stood firm in face of the Sangheili, she didn't cower like a broken dog. "I am Lieutenant Nicole Kimber," she said, saluting.

"Another Nicole?" Kurr asked with a shiver.

She looked to the Unggoy. They were almost eye level which was somewhat comical. "Nicole is a fairly common name for us. But you can just call me Kimber, or lieutenant." She looked to the Sangheili. "Or human, if you prefer."

Rtas grunted recognition.

"Please, step inside," she said, tapping at a key panel so that the door beside her opened.

Rtas was hesitant. He couldn't see into the room as well as he would like: it was dark, with only a large television screen at the far corner as a source of illumination. Three or four shapeless masses in the shadows. The terms were that he had to come to this little meeting unarmed. Though he was fairly certain that he could take out every human on this station, procuring weapons from the corpses if necessary (he did hate human weapons, but survival was survival), he knew how bad that would be for the budding relationship. And there was a chance that he would be overwhelmed before he found a way to escape. And a part of him was worried about Kurr. He had no real problem with sending an Unggoy to his death, but at the very least, it should be for a worthy cause.

He stepped inside, and was relieved when the room didn't light up with gunfire. He took a seat, with such different design from the others it obviously meant for him. Kurr took one of the human's seat, the one closest to Rtas, and looked about, in his nervous way. He was chewing on his methane respirator as if it were a morsel. There were noticeable bite marks all around it, made by stubby, sharp teeth.

"You all know why you are here," Lieutenant Kimber said. Rtas listened to the light pitter patter of her tiny feet on the ground as she came into the room. She lifted a handheld clicker to her eye and pressed the button with her thumb, and the blank picture on the distant screen blinked to show a transport. "The _Blameless Grace_. A transport belonging to the Sangheili." She cocked her head towards Rtas, a gesture that was obvious even in the shadows. "It was attacked, its crew slaughtered without any show of mercy. It may have been the Jiralhanae. It may have been one of the rouge sects of Sangheili." She sighed, these next words would not come easily. "It may have been one of us."

There were voiceless scowls throughout the room. Rtas tried to listen, but words were lost.

"Have you anything to say, shipmaster?"

Rtas looked about the room, at the faceless glares that looked back at him. Why did the humans favor dark rooms so? Did they think it gave them some sense of mystique? Did they revel in the darkness so? It was completely impractical, but try to explain to a human the idea of practicality. He stood up to his full height, and gathered his thoughts. "The _Blameless Grace_ was a transportation ship, staffed by approximately one hundred and fifty personal. Mostly Sangheili minors and civilians. Normally, Unggoy would man the ship rather than civilians, but the liberation of the Unggoy has left us low for personnel. Similarly, a ship such as that would normally be granted an escort, but due to our present limitations on ships following the Jiralhanae attacks, it went alone. The term you humans would use is, I believe, 'easy pickings'."

"What was the ship carrying?" asked a masculine voice from his left side.

"The ship was carrying produce. Its purpose is to dock at one of our farm planets, processes the produce on board, and then deliver it where it is needed. The cargo was not valuable. It is not as if there is a shortage of rations."

"You certain there was no doomsday device you split chins wanted to smuggle through space?" asked the masculine voice again.

Rtas gave a low snarl. "No, we are sure to escort the ships that carry the doomsday devices." It seemed that only Lieutenant Kimber understood the sarcasm, because she gave a slight snicker, though to be fair he heard what may have been an Unggoy's version of a chuckle at his side.

Lieutenant Kimber cleared her throat. "Given the lack of value of the cargo, the fact that the crew was composed to a large extent of civilians and minors, and the severity of the attack, we guess that their primary goal wasn't pillage. It seemed like, for lack of a better term, a thrill kill."

Rtas clicked his mandibles, but if Kimber understood the hostility of the gesture, she didn't show it.

"Why is this _our_ concern?" asked the masculine voice. "In case you haven't noticed, we aren't exactly brimming with ships and personnel. Can't the split chins handle this themselves?"  
"The Elites are our comrades now, and we need to show them our support."

Why the humans insisted on using the term "Elite", and to a lesser extent, the derogatory term "split-chin," to speak of his kind angered Rtas to no end. They were Sangheili. He, as had most, had given up using derogatory terms for the humans. He called them _human_, and nothing else.

Lieutenant Kimber tapped her clicker and the lights buzzed to life. "Let's get introductions out of the way. This is Shipmaster Rtas 'Vadum." She turned to her subordinates, and gave a look like a mother would when she told her children to behave. "We should be honored to have such a high ranking Elite aiding us in this operation. Shipmaster 'Vadum, this is Private Colt," she said, cocking her head towards the large male, the one that Rtas guessed had been speaking through the demonstration. Private Savage was of average size for a male soldier, with jet black hair and skin so pale, it gave him an unhealthy, ghostly look. In passing, Kimber mentioned that he was squad's communications expert and would regularly be updating her government of any interesting developments. Private Wesson was dark skinned, like Sergeant Johnson, and by how she spoke to him, Kimber's de facto second in command. Rtas hoped this one would prove more agreeable than the late sergeant. That made four.

"I was told that there would be five of you."

"Major Springfield was originally part of this task force, but he fell in the line of duty a few days ago. I guess that makes this my taskforce."

"What operation?"

"I'm afraid that that is classified, even to you." She tapped her clicker, and the door opened, each of the subordinate humans rising and leaving until it was only Rtas, Kurr, and the lieutenant, who casually crossed the room until she was standing before him, looking high up to reach eye level. "I cannot thank you enough for coming here, shipmaster, for agreeing to aid us in this investigation. I understand you must be feeling some reluctance." She sighed. "I want this treaty to last, for a large part simply because if we humans go to war again with you, we are going to die. You know where Earth is, and we still haven't a good idea where Sanghelios is. As you can see, that leaves us at a strategic disadvantage even if we commanded equal forces, which we don't."

Rtas said nothing in response. He enjoyed this human, he had to admit. She was straight forward, honest, sincere, traits that Sangheili held in high regard. Or this may have been a trick. A clever manipulation. Either way, it wasn't easy to deceive a Sangheili and, if she was, she was doing a cunning job.

"I ask you, shipmaster, to aid us in finding whoever did this."  
"How did Major Springfield die?"

"He was murdered in a home robbery, the last day of his leave."

"And you do not believe that?"

"That a trained soldier should be killed by some petty thief in a smash grab gone wrong? No, I don't believe it. Not for a moment. He was an outspoken supporter of the treaty; he had a lot of enemies on both sides. There _are_ those of you who don't like us."

Rtas gave a reluctant nod.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

It felt good to be in a Sangheili ship. The human's ships and stations were far too small for him to traverse comfortably, he had to crouch and stalk and be sure that he didn't murder someone simply by bumping into them a little too hard. Humans were always dying for the stupidest of reasons after all. But now he could stretch fully and not have to worry about the little gnats running around and getting in his way. It was a small comfort, but he reveled in it, drew strength from it. After all, he needed all the strength he could muster considering he was standing on the ship where over a hundred of his brothers and sisters had been cut down. He extended a hand to the wall and steadied himself, thankful that the lieutenant and the others had opted to stay outside and give him this peace. It was overwhelming, the thought of all those dead, what he would give for the rush of adrenaline of the battlefield that warded off any shows of depression. He felt weak, uneasy, and he was thankful that the humans weren't here to see it.

The bodies had been removed so that they could be properly taken care of, but such had been done so with the strictest of care. The scene was relatively undisturbed. Rtas had no clue what he was looking for, but if the assassins had left some telltale clue, he hoped to see it. A blood splatter that was out of place, perhaps blue mingled with red in contrast to the purple and confirm the suspicions of a Jiralhanae. A spent shell that would reveal the identity of the assassins as humans. But the stench of rot made focusing difficult. He was actually envious of Kurr, who followed after like an obedient dog. The Unggoy was lucky enough to carry his own air supply on his back.

As he traversed the hallways, he looked over the report that the first team (them being human) to enter the ship had written. They had certainly gotten better at translation: the Sangheili it was written in was nearly flawless. They took note of how the bodies fell, in what order and where they were facing in relation to their wounds. What weapons appeared to be used. Where it appeared the assailants started and where they finished. If the Sangheili had gotten off any shots. And a body count. One hundred thirty-three. One hundred and thirty-three Sangheili lives snuffed like a flame in the wind. His hand clenched into a fist. Civilians at that, and minors, not true warriors, but youths who had entered the military on an impulse and would most likely have gotten out, seeing as the Sangheili was no longer at war with anyone, save the Jiralhanae sects and they hardly proved a threat. The beasts would be put down, it was just a matter of time.

These children would have been easy to overwhelm, even for humans so long as the humans moved swiftly, carefully, with crushing force. Coordination, that was the key. Coordination, most likely soldiers then. The humans had spent enough time amongst the Sangheili to learn their tactics, their ways of thinking, and their flaws. A finger brushed one of the hundreds of bullet holes that lined the walls. Humans weapons had been used. No denying it.

"They fired a bunch," Kurr noted.

"Yes, the humans overwhelmed them quickly and cut them down in a flurry. They kept them off balance, used surprise, used overwhelming force, probably jamming devices to prevent organizing a counterattack and shields to prevent causalities. They call it a…blitzkrieg I believe. Defeat was inevitable." Rtas shook his head.

The irony was not lost on him. How many planets had he glassed without a second thought? How many humans had he executed under orders, never questioning those orders? For the first time in memory, he felt some semblance of remorse for what he had done. But while it was there, it was small. Just as the humans were incapable of feeling the loss of these hundred and thirty three as Rtas felt it, he couldn't make the same connection; feel the sense of agony for those taken in his campaigns. The one called Colt had even muttered something he took to mean, "Good riddance" though he wasn't sure. If not for his promise to the Arbiter, the shipmaster would have felt the private's neck pop right there and then.

"This was a human attack," Rtas confirmed.

"You can you be sure?" Kurr asked. "Perhaps Jiralhanae, using human's weapons?"

"The trajectory of the bullets. They entered the walls at an upwards angle. The humans were aiming at the crews torso, face, and neck. They weren't trying to cover their tracks. They must have figured setting the ship afloat in space and it would never be found. It almost wasn't. Only by grace of the ancestors did we stumble upon this. Otherwise these fallen would never know peace."

---

The voice that came over the radio was inaudible, laced with static. Whatever could be heard was a word here, a gunshot there, nothing that helped. Some sort of jamming device was being used, they couldn't send any request for help. Not that there was anyone to help them. But the real problem was they could barely send messages within the ship. They couldn't coordinate a counter attack, or pinpoint where the enemy was so they could swoop down and crush them under foot. In the hopes of keeping the ship, they had spread their forces. And just when they thought they knew where to go and an order was passed, they found the hall or the room or the bridge empty, only the mangled remnants of Jiralhanae. They were being cut down.

Thantus gave a low growl of recognition, as yet another warning came up to the screen that sat before him. He crushed the monitor beneath a fist in a fit of anger, shaking the particles of glass from the remnants of shaven fur on his arm.

"They are pushing farther, chieftan," said one of the Jiralhanae that accompanied him on the bridge. "They have taken both engine rooms and are working their way deeper. My estimate would be they outnumber us five to one by now."

"Stand with honor," Thantus said in a low growl.

"To the last breath," his comrade said, looking over his armor to be sure it was securely fastened over his massive form. All across the bridge his fellow Jiralhanae were busy making minor adjustments to their weapons, overturning tables into makeshift barricades, roaring and riling themselves up into a bloodied frenzy, embracing their fellow members of the pack.

Sangheili and human? Disgusting. Beneath the boiling repulsion for his species' primary rival, Thantus knew to at least fear the Sangheili when in large groups, and at most recognize they were only slightly inferior to him in one on one. It was something that none would ever admit, but it was something that all knew regardless. That hadn't stopped him from butchering the Sangheili by the droves, but when able he gave them an honorable death on the field of battle, even with their precious little swords clamped firmly in their hands. But to align with the humans? What could posses them to do such a disgusting thing as that?

The enemy was pounding on the door of the bridge. Any moment they would remember they had cutting lasers. Humans took no prisoners. He had to respect them on that aspect. Thantus turned to his company, his personal guards, his elites, his inner pack. They were his brothers and sisters, some in blood, and others in battle. His mate, who had bore him three beautiful males, all dead by now, taken in the Sangheili's retaliations. He hefted his hammer to his shoulder and stood tall.

"Brothers," he boomed. "Today we die. Let it be with a human's throat in our grip and a Sangheili ground beneath our heel."

There was a great cheer, followed by the door to the bridge being blown off its hinges, and the enemy was upon them. The first wave of Jiralhanae gunfire was halted by a thrown bubble shield and he watched, frustrated, as the humans gathered behind the protective barrier, dancing out just long enough to throw flash grenades and stickies forward. A blinding flash of white followed.

---

"Thank you for the time lieutenant."

"It was no problem. May I ask if you found anything of interest?"

"I confirmed my suspicion that this was the work of humans. I would expect a slaughter of this magnitude from the Jiralhanae, animalistic monsters that they are. But from humans." His voice trailed off before making his point.  
"I hate to admit it, but there are still factions that aren't too fond of our cooperation. Big surprise, huh?"

"Are most of you humans happy?"

"No, but we don't want another war. As I have said, you have the strength, you have the knowledge. We have nothing to compete with you."

"Do you trust the men in your squad?"

"You are referring to Colt."

Rtas nodded.

"Colt had lost a lot in the war. We all had, but Colt especially. Did you lose anyone shipmaster?"

"Brothers, to you, and your demon."

"I mean blood," the lieutenant said. So she was familiar with the extent of Sangheili comradery, their idea of brotherhood. How interesting.

"I fail to see how blood should matter. They are lost, gone to join the ancestors. Their deaths weigh heavy on my shoulders, just as the death of these weigh on me. You have yet to answer my question. Do you trust your men?"

"Yes shipmaster, I do. I've been through hell with those men. I trust them with my life, I vouch for them with my life, and I will take responsibility for any of their actions."

"Did you lose anyone in the war?"

She was silent a while. "Yes. But it matters not. I was chosen for this operation because my dedication to duty is absolute. I can repress whatever hostilities I have and continue to operate alongside you."

"Have you any children?"

Kimber bit her lip. "Yes, a son, with my late husband."

"Then you have something to fight for. Have your men ready to leave by the end of the hour." He stalked off.

---

The _Shining Wisdom_ was a small ship that could be manned by two: pilot and copilot. There was absolutely no way that Kurr could remember everything, so he gave the humans the most basic of tutorials of what did what, accepting that he couldn't do everything himself. His reasons were simple: partly he didn't believe that the humans could comprehend the complexities of a ship, and part of him feared they would understand everything just fine. Either way, the less they knew the better.

"May I ask where we are going?" said Lieutenant Kimber.

"A Sangheili space station." A long finger tapped a spot on the map.

Kimber sighed. "May I ask why we are going there?"

"The space station serves as something of a library. It records all things related to transport, crew size, crew members, routes taken, interference encountered. I want a tally of all those on the _Blameless Grace_, where it departed from, what was its destination. I want to know if they got off a distress signal, and who received it. A ship of that size, even undermanned, would take time to take over. At any rate, there are humans aboard the library, they would have access to our travel routes and times of departure. I would like to ask them a few questions."

"There was no distress signal," Kimber assured. "We would have received it."

"Of course you would have."

"I assume you will _only_ be questioning them?"

"I will only be doing what is necessary."

Kimber sighed, before turning and walking off the bridge. She gave a silent nod to Wesson, who would be serving as copilot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Holy crap this chapter is long. Grab a soda and get comfortable.**

_Chapter 4_

The space station was reached by the end of the cycle. For that whole time, the shipmaster served as pilot and the static Andrew Wesson as his co-pilot. Occasionally the human would ask a question with his accent that the shipmaster couldn't place, and Rtas would explain what did what, but mostly it was quiet. He was an observant creature, and that made him dangerous.

There was something about the private though, something Rtas couldn't place. Occasionally, _he_ would ask a question. The private was an orphan, not from the war, his parents had put him up for adoption a month or two after he was born. He bounced from orphanage to orphanage until coming of age and joining the military for no other reason than he had nothing else to do. Rtas was thankful for that. He wasn't a zealot. He wasn't a sociopath. He was a good little soldier. And when the ship finally pulled into the space station, Rtas was happy that he had shared the company.

"Stay here," Rtas growled to his human entourage.

Colt, unsurprisingly, was the one who came forward. "Our orders are to accompany you, Half-jaw."

Rtas noted that they had come up with a new nickname for him. Truly it pushed the limits of human wit and cleverness. He should have explained the great value that Sangheili put on their names, and requested that they refer to him by his title at the least, but he didn't see the point. He thought of caving the human's skull, but didn't see the point in that either.

"It will not be safe," the shipmaster explained calmly.

"But inviting you into the fold is?"

Kimber gave a stern look to her subordinate, and he immediately bit his tongue. "With respect shipmaster, this is a joint operation. We are under orders to accompany you in all endevours. I understand that you are fully capable of completing this assignment yourself, but perhaps we can be of service. Who knows, maybe you'll need something off a low shelf."

"If you desire to come, then come, but stay close. You will not be welcomed here."

Only Kimber and Colt came along, the other two remained on the ship with Kurr.

"Stay close," Rtas warned again. He was carrying only his energy sword brazenly on his waist, while he didn't permit the humans to bring anything to defend themselves. He alone should be able to diffuse any hostile situations, and the last thing he wanted was for the idiot called Colt to open fire on a minor who passed him in a hallway and gave him "an evil look". Besides, it was more fun to have them unarmed, squirming on a hook. Let them feel that nervousness that had settled in the back of his mind when he had been on their space station, all alone. Well, he had Kurr, but that hardly counted.

The station barely boasted a skeleton crew most of the time. During the hours of less traffic, there were even fewer: just one or two grunts to file travel logs and monitor the systems, the rest spending their free time in leisure. Some of his kin gave him odd looks for the company he kept, but his armor, as well as his distinctive injury meant speedy recognition, and they knew better than to question his motives or bother the humans he kept in tow.

"Shipmaster," Kimber said, tapping his arm.

He stopped walking and turned to her. Her focus was to her left, not forward, and she walked right into him. The immovable weight knocked her backwards, into the awaiting arms of Colt. She hid her embarrassment, but not so much that it didn't show. It was a clever act: pretending to be ditzy and clumsy, most likely so that he would let his guard down. She was a clever creature, but he saw through it.

"There is a human," she said barely cocking her head to a far corner. It was a wonder Rtas hadn't noticed him. But then, he hadn't been looking for him, nor was this a combat situation that demanded every sense be sharp as a razor. The fact that he had to keep an eye on _his_ humans didn't help.

"And?"

"I am not fluent in your language's alphabet but I believe the sign over the files he is looking over are Sangheili transports, not humans or cooperative vessels. Why would he be doing that?"

Rtas cursed at himself for letting something so obvious pass over him. Humans were good at that, hiding in plain sight. Right under his snout. He asked a guard about the human, and the guard explained that the human was one of the few who operated on this station alongside the Sangheili. Actually, no one had paid much attention to him, none had even noticed what files he was looking at. He hadn't done anything threatening, caused no trouble and called no attention to himself. Like all the residence, he carried with him only a sidearm, a magnum, worn obviously on his belt.

"Go speak to him," Rtas said to the lieutenant, who nodded obediently and scurried off. He commandeered the guard's sidearm and held it behind his back, as Kimber began a conversation with the stranger. His body language screamed nervousness, and though he was too far to hear what they were saying, Rtas gripped the Neelder tighter. The stranger must have let something slip, because his eyes bulged wide, if only for a moment. He gestured to the files, and gestured to the station. He made movements with his hands that Rtas didn't understand. He assumed a casual stance, leaning against a wall, smiling and laughing at something the lieutenant said. Finally, Kimber nodded, saluted, and turned back towards Rtas, for a moment meeting his eyes before she dove onto the ground and covered her head with her hands. Behind her, the stranger had drawn his magnum, but was cut down by a flurry of needles.

"Sound the alarm," Rtas said calmly. "Lock down the entire station under my orders. Nobody gets out: human, Unggoy, Sangheili, no one!"

"Yes sir," the guard said quickly, before entering the order into the radio on his armor.

"Get every human together. Don't let them out of your sight. Confiscate their weapons, their radios, and their clothing."

"Yes sir."

Kimber slowly gathered herself, with the aid of Colt who stood over her like a guardian devil. He had taken the stranger's magnum, and was passing his aim over the entire area, more than once aiming at the shipmaster, who just stood. The lieutenant ordered him to lower the weapon, which he did after a great deal of hesitation. She took the weapon for herself, and disassembled it with a few quick movements of her hand, dropping the new useless pieces to the ground. She gave a look to Rtas, then turned her attention back to corpse.

"He's one of ours," she said, squatting down and passing a hand over his face to close his eyes. "Not a fringe soldier or a terrorist, he's one of ours."

"Do you know him?"

She thought to herself. "No, but his mannerism, the way he talked, the way he spoke. He was one of ours." She yanked the dog tags from his neck and looked them over, before throwing them onto the ground in a fit of rage.

"Why would he pull his weapon?" Rtas asked. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. That he was alphabetizing the records. Monkey work. That's all you give the humans on the station to do? He must have figured that we were on to something. He wanted you to kill him: Victim-Precipitated Homicide. You couldn't just wound him?"

Rtas didn't like the tone she took on the last sentence, but allowed it to slide. It was good to see her true colors burning through the veil.

---

The Brute chieftan was thrown into a cell before the drugs that were pumping through his body finally wore off. Coincidentally, there were enough tranquilizers to stop two full grown bull elephants in musth, and still there was the occasional groan and snarl as five soldiers dragged his massive hide along. He was left in the cell, with the burning force field of a fourth wall erected to keep him boxed in. How long he remained unconscious he wasn't sure, but when he woke he let out a bellow of anger and threw his massive frame furiously against his confines. The walls didn't yield, no matter how he beat it. What material it could have been made of baffled him, he had killed countless creatures with his own strength, and yet his prison wasn't even dented. That didn't stop him from trying of course.

Another roar, and he turned to the crimson sheen that served as the barrier of the fourth wall. It seared his fur even before he made contact with it. It boiled and flamed his skin when he tried to push it, even he had to retract from the pain and rub the burn.

"Cowards," Thantus bellowed. "Release me or kill me, but don't imprison me like a pet."

Nothing happened. No human appeared, no walls shrunk away, no vents opened in the ceiling to fill his confines with poisonous gas. His blood boiled.

Eventually, he just got too tired to throw himself against the walls in a ceaseless, vain attempt to escape. His shoulders and back started to ache. He practically collapsed, still fuming, still waiting for something to happen.

From his cell, he couldn't see much of the prison save what was directly in front of him. A human walked forward, entering from the left and stood in front of the cell, his face distorted behind the visor that was standard amongst the ODST forces. Heavy body armor, an assault rifle slung loosely at his hips. If not for his imprisonment he could tear this human limb from limb.

With both hands, the soldier pulled off his helmet and placed it under his right arm. He was an elderly human, bald, icy blue eyes. No visible scars, but he was definitely a soldier. He had that inner strength that granted his kind the respect of the Sangheili, that fire.

"Does this bother you?" he finally asked.

"Let me out and I will make your death quick," Thantus said, annunciating every word. How interesting that they should allow him the translator attached to his ear, these humans wanted him to understand. He was quaking with anger, to have his enemy so close and to be unable to reach out and choke the life out of him. He smashed a powerful fist against the crimson sheen, and even though he was burned, his skin seared, he reveled in the fact that the human took a frightful step back.

"It must just kill you, that sense of powerlessness. You and yours, you just love to be in control, don't you? You love that moment that you feel the life of others in your hand. Its intoxicating, I must admit.

The Chieftan had given up speaking and had worked himself into a rage, throwing himself against the walls, heedless of the burns and broken bones that accompanied these actions. And all the time, the human just stood there, helmet under arm, icy blue eyes unflinching.

"I would get comfortable if I were you, Brute, you will be here a long time."

"I am going to crush you in my grip."

"Facta, non verba," the man muttered, before putting his helmet back on, turning and leaving.

There were no windows or doors, or a clock that Thantus could see, but by how long his fur had grown, he guessed his captivity had lasted a week so far. When he felt the bones break in his right hand, he finally gave up with trying to escape through brute force, knowing that he would need as much strength as he could muster. They fed him once a day, a tiny can of ration, more befitting for a human than for a Jiralhanae such as himself, but he wolfed it down hungrily, even eating the can it came in. It slipped through a tiny opening in the crimson wall. At first he worked to maintain his bulk, but he realized quickly that he was not receiving the sustenance that was necessary for his usual regime. And he needed his strength. He needed to be patient, even though every molecule of his being demanded he take action to avenge his fallen.

He just had to wait.

---

What few humans that served on the library were swiftly rounded up. Their weapons and clothing were confiscated and they all stood, shivering, in paper gowns in the center of the interrogation room, huddling together. Perhaps it was for warmth, it was quite cold. Perhaps it was instinctual to crowd in such a dire situation as this. Perhaps they were plotting something, muffling their whispers with cries and whining. He didn't know how deep this went, and he was taking no chances. There were a few Sangheili that he could trust on this station, he would leave them with strict orders to be careful and contact him with anything suspicious. He pondered leaving Kurr as his surrogate, but his instincts told him that he would need the Unggoy.

"Shipmaster," Kimber said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I understand the need for security, but this is too far. You cannot just take twenty people hostage because of a little suspicion."

"A hundred and thirty three of my people were executed because somebody revealed the route that the _Blameless Grace_ would be taking. Those twenty humans should feel exuberant that this is all I have done. Your council is noted lieutenant, but they will remain until I am satisfied."

"I understand that you are angry about the attack, but you have no evidence that these men had anything to do with it."

"A human was examining _our_ routes, he attempted to open fire on _our_ space station. That is evidence enough. If my suspicions are unproven, your comrades shall be freed. Until then, I suggest you stay out of this and return to the ship."

Kimber's muscles tensed. She wanted to do something, grab a weapon and open fire and free every one of her comrades who were imprisoned, heedless of the consequences, but she swallowed her rage and turned to leave. She had taken five steps when she noticed she was being followed.

"I do not require an escort, shipmaster," she said, lips dripping venom. She referred to the Sangheili who was standing a few steps behind her.

"But you do require a bodyguard. The major will see to it that you make it back to the ship, and then make sure that no one else boards it. It is for your own safety, lieutenant."

So she walked, with the Sangheili following behind, leaving her fellow humans in the hands of a creature she was quickly losing faith in.

"This is very bad," Colt muttered, when they were safely on the ship.

"Yes," Kimber said.

"He could have shot you."

"He shot the human who was going to shoot me. He saved me. But to take twenty innocent people hostage just because of a baseless suspicion. That's going too far."

"Twenty four, we are just as much hostages as the ones he has thrown into the cage. Who knows what he is doing to them. Who knows what he is going to do to us. We should contact Lord Hood and tell him what has happened."

"That would be great, had the shipmaster not locked down the computers, not to mention the jamming systems he's undoubtedly using." Kimber sighed, looking at her squad. "Savage," she finally said, and the private perked his head. He had been playing with one of his electronic toys, a mini television or a video game or something, she wasn't sure. She looked outside, at the major who was standing guard in front of the ship, as much to keep other Sangheili out as to keep them in. "Can you hack in to their security cameras from here? I know that you're not that familiar with Sangheili computers, I don't know if you can get by his locks, but-"

"Nicole, I can do anything. But the fact that I smuggled this aboard should help." He smiled like a child who was showing off an "A" on his report card as he pulled a small computer from one of his armor's hidden pockets.

It was an hour later he had gotten by all the shipmaster's firewalls and gotten control of the _Shinning Wisdom_. Another half hour before, using the _Wisdom_'s command codes, he managed to hack into the station's main computer. "Got it," Savage said proudly. "I have the Elite's security systems. We can see through any of their cameras. Here's the interrogation room. Good news, looks like everyone's still there."

"No, there are two missing." Kimber thought to herself. "Oh god, there are two missing."

"Where are they?" Colt demanded, but in vain Savage clicked through every camera he could, not finding any trace of human, only Sangheili patrolling, Sangheili eating, Sangheili sparring. An Unggoy or two, apparently a few had stayed with Sangeheili and not returned to their home planet, like Kurr.

"Oh god," Kimber said again.

"They are dead," boomed a voice behind them. Kimber retained her composure as she turned to see the shipmaster standing in the doorway. He was so quiet when he moved, despite his size and hooves, it was frightening. Not to mention that camouflage that he was so found of, he could be anywhere at any time. Kimber made a mental not to be more careful, as she smiled politely. She tried not to cringe when she noticed the crimson blotches on his monochromatic armor. He hadn't even tried to wipe them away, they were worn proudly.

Rtas started forward. He probably would have trampled the humans had they not gotten out of his way. "You hacked my computer? From such a little toy that you could slip it by us?"

"Yes, shipmaster. Private Savage did, under my orders." Kimber was firm as ever.

Rtas turned to the trembling private, towering over him, growling lowly with each breath. "When this is over, you will have to show us how you bypassed our firewalls, and perhaps help us improve our defenses. Truth be told, we aren't as technologically savvy as we would like to be. It was forbidden to analyze the Forerunner's technology, and that has put us at a great disadvantage when compared to your most advanced AIs. We are behind you humans in many ways."

"Of course," the private said quickly.

"I know the identity of the man responsible for the attack on the _Blameless Grace._ His name is Colonel Grigori Kalashnikov. Shipmaster of the _Kingdom Come. _We will be leaving within the hour for Earth. Prepare yourselves." He turned and left, just as silently as how he came in.

"Greg?" Colt asked.

Kimber nodded. "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

**I would like to take a moment to thank Newtype Omega, who told me a bit about the lore and gave me the idea to use Helljumpers for this part and onwards. It's a better story because of you.**

_Chapter 5_

Rtas removed the various pieces of his armor so that he could more easily wipe away the few splatters of crimson from the whiteness, before it stained. He polished it, seeing that it glowed and reflected his image, before setting it down on the mannequin that wore it when he did not. He doubted he had much to fear of the humans, he'd be able to hear them coming long before they reached his door, but he still thought about putting his armor back on. He decided against it, he wanted the freedom that it didn't afford him.

Looking in the mirror now, a finger brushed over the missing piece of his jaw, the soft, vulnerable flesh still tingled as it had when the wound was fresh. The piece of his face he had lost when the Covenant was whole and things were simple. Without a doubt, that had been the most painful mission of his career. Not just the unscheduled amputation. Oh that had burned, and seeing the face of one of his comrades wielding the blade that sliced into his flesh only added to the agony. But the men he had lost for a cause that had been proven unjust, that clung to him inside and refused to ever let go. "Die with honor," he had said. "Though you leave this world, you will accompany us on the Great Journey."

His soldiers, corrupted by the parasites and dead by his hand. He had done it easily, believing that they would come on the Great Journey, he truly believed in the Great Journey. The civilians who had died, those one hundred and thirty three lives lost. Where were they now? Was the Great Journey not a complete fabrication, was there something after, or were their souls extinguished like a candle in the wind. Soul heavy, he sat back in his arm chair and thought, hoping to scan his mind for the answers that he knew didn't exist.

---

"Are you feeling alright?" Kimber asked.

Colt rested his head in his hand, his elbow on the table, and blinked twice. "Why are we working with _it_?"

"Him. The shipmaster is a him. I think. Actually I'm not sure what their females look like."

"Why are we working with _him_?"

"You've been drinking," Kimber sighed. She slid the remaining two cans of beer to the opposite end of the table, out of his reach. "We are going to make the jump soon. We may have to engage the enemy right off the ship. Now do you think you can do that when you're seeing purple elephants?"

He chuckled. "We're going to get into a shootout with a squad of Helljumpers? Have you realized how ridiculous that is? There is no way Greg is at fault for this. We should be investigating the Elites. They probably staged this entire thing so they could restart the war and their precious honor could remain intact. Besides I'm not drunk." Kimber cast a scornful gaze to the neat pile of cans at his feet.

"The war was hard for all of us."

"Not for them. They slaughtered us. He and all his Elites, they slaughtered us. They glassed us like we were ants. And what? Now that they need us, we're suddenly good buddies? We should just forget all the fallen, our families, just like that?"

"Of course not. We should never forget the fallen. We should never allow their memory to die. But we need to move on. We need to look past old crimes because if we don't, its all over."

"They took my children," he screamed. "They took my children away from me, but they couldn't finish me. They couldn't let me die with them, could they?"

"I know," Kimber said, placing a dainty hand on his. "I know."

She didn't hear Rtas as he entered, but he felt him tap her shoulder. She was startled for a moment, having let her guard down. He wasn't wearing his armor, only his skintight bodysuit, and if not for his injury, she may have thought that a second Elite had somehow gotten onto the ship. His gaze shifted to Colt, who looked back down at his remaining can, playing with it between his finger and thumb. The shipmaster cocked his head and turned, no words spoken, but the message was clear.

"Drink some coffee," she said to Colt, before turning and following after Rtas.

---

The_ Kingdom Come _was near Earth on its daily patrols when a message from a small ship, the _Shining Wisdom_, opened a request for a radio conversation. Colonel Kalashnikov was on the bridge, as he usually was, and opened the channel with his usual easy smile.

"Nicole?"

"Greeting colonel."

"What brings you to earth? Last I heard you were running special operations, good faith missions, for the Elites?"

"Fuck those squidfaces," she said with a chipper tone. "I got out of those bullshit operations. I've just been traveling around our colonies, checking in to be sure the split chins aren't doing anything naughty. My crew and I finally have some time off though. We figured we should go home. And as we approaching Earth, guess what we saw? I didn't realize that you were doing patrolling now. That's got to kill the Helljumpers."

"There is no one to fight. This is where we are needed, so this is where we are. If you have some time off, why not come aboard for a while."

Kimber smiled sweetly, and nodded. She looked to Savage, who gave a thumbs up, implying that feed was cut. She reclined back in the captain's seat that was far too large for her, looking just out of the camera's vision at the Elite, who stood with his arms folded across his chest.

"I do not enjoy this plan," Rtas growled.

"You need to trust me, shipmaster. We need to confirm that Colonel Kalashnikov is the one responsible for the attack."

"I have already confirmed it, _lieutenant_."

"You tortured two humans to death. That confirms nothing." She stood and turned to walk off the bridge. Rtas followed, with Kurr in tow, and then the three humans.

"They gave me a name. They told me their operation: they learned when our ships would be unguarded, and then they sent the information to the colonel. He slipped out of his patrol and attacked, stole the supplies to make it look like piracy, and returned to their patrol before anyone noticed. Its more than simple. Who would notice if his ship slipped away in the vastness of space? It is not as if you are engaged at all times, the whole thing would take an hour at most with proper coordination. Giving a man like him entire squadrons of Helljumpers, human intelligence never ceases to amaze me."

"Colonel Kalashnikov has proven time and time again to be a loyal soldier. He had fought against the Covenant since the first days of the war. He kept colonies safe, he evacuated countless civilians when you were glassing us like we were bugs. That's why we gave him the Helljumpers, cause god knows he's the only one who could possibly keep that many explosive elements together."

"Who knows how many times they have performed this. Have you any idea how many ships we lose to pirates? To malfunctions in the systems? To the Jiralhanae? Lose them when we are shipping supplies to _your_ colonies, defending _your_ ships from attacks." He was hulking over her, and she was scared, but to show it would mean to lose whatever standing she had with him. "We only know about the _Blameless Grace_ because we found the _Blameless Grace. _I have refrained from contacting the Council only at your request, though my patience grows thin."

"You tortured men to the point they would have said anything for the release of death. That does not prove anything. Or maybe they were the ones responsible and they just accused Kalashnikov to throw us off the trail. Of course, now that you've killed them, we can't question them anymore. I want to be sure that Kalashnikov and his crew is at fault. I will not allow you lizards to take another innocent life, do you understand?"

Rtas' hand found her throat and lifted her off the ground, even before she had finished talking. He didn't pin her against the wall then hold her up. He just took her and lifted his arm like Colt had picked up the beer cans. There was no struggle to him, no strain, as he held, but she squirmed like a worm on a hook. Colt sprang to action, but stopped as Rtas drew his blade and put the tip to his throat. Savage and Wesson lifted their weapons to the Sangheili, and Kurr aimed at them. So they remained in a painful standstill, only Kimber struggling and squirming in his grip. Wheezing and begging and praying. Tears trickled down her cheeks and onto his hand.

"As far as I know, you had a hand in the _Blameless Grace_ attack, and that this is all a trap. You have six hours to nullify my suspicions. After six hours, I shall contact the Arbiter and have the _Kingdom Come_ destroyed. Do you understand?"

He dropped her, coughing and wheezing on the ground, and turned to go to his personal quarters. He made no attempt to hide the sound of his hooves, they were an indicator of his retreat and how Kimber knew she was safe. He must have known the danger he was in, turning his back, lacking his armor, but he kept a casual, almost arrogant waltz. Kurr backed out of the room, will broken with the absence of his commander, keeping his weapons ready and trying to look firm in the face of the three guns that were now trained on him.

"He could have killed you," Colt said, still holding his weapon in the direction that the Elite had walked off to. He squatted close to her.

She choked a little. "I am aware of that," she muttered, trying to stand, leaning against the wall until the dark splotches left her vision. She walked to her quarters, and maintained a calmness until the door was closed behind her. The closest piece of furniture was a small side table just to the side of the door. She threw it against the farthest wall, and it splintered into nothing. Screaming, she tipped over her mattress and broke a lamp. Last, she threw a chair against the mirror. Through the spider web of cracks she looked at the ugly purple welts that now adorned her porcelain skin, croaking out a painful cough. It would take a lot of makeup to cover up the marks.


	6. Chapter 6

**I've nearly finished re-re-rewriting the ending for this, as soon as it's all done I'll start posting at a quicker schedule, about twice a week. I really feel good about this story, and I want it all up.**

_Chapter 6_

"Nicole, my oldest of friends." Colonel Kalashnikov accompanied this line with a loving bear hug.

"Hello colonel," she said, returning the smile. His embrace, though certainly tight, was much more appealing than the shipmaster's grip. He was always like this: boisterous, jolly. She hugged back.

"Do you require anything? Any supplies restocked on your ship? Weapons perhaps? Space can be scary, especially when dealing with the Elites. Certain precautions must always be taken."

"No Greg. Savage keeps my ship working quite well. If necessary, we could outrun just about anyone I reckon. Better to run after all. Opening fire on an Elite cruiser wouldn't do wonders for the treaty, even if they are the ones who start it."

Kalashnikov looked past Kimber to the ship, looking positively tiny in the hangar of the _Kingdom Come, _its purple hue glistened loudly against the steel. "It's an Elite's models, not human."

"Politics, you know how it goes. I hate it personally but I'll be court marshaled if I don't fly it. Unfair really. I take solace in the fact that somewhere out there is an Elite flying around in one of our ships."

Kalashnikov smiled. "I have seen to it that private quarters have been set up. I'll have someone show you to your room. But first, come along, it has been too long."

"Of course." She turned to her subordinates: Savage, Colt, Wesson. She gave them a salute, and they saluted back. It was a good chance for her men to spread out, mingle, perhaps learn something important. The UNSC _Kingdom Come _Destroyer was vast, to say the least. Perhaps not the largest of ships, but it was large, practically the size of a small city. Fast, maneuverable, and able to take enough of a beating that it could get close to a lonely vessel in the deep recesses of space. But, hypothetically, if it were targeting Elite vessels, it wouldn't need much of anything to get close. The Elites wouldn't open fire on a human vessel after all. It could get close, even claim to be requesting aid and the Elites would allow their ship to be boarded.

The _Kingdom Come_ was staffed by almost five hundred. A decent portion were civilians: cooks, engineers, medics, but any one of them could take up a rifle with some dominance if they were to overwhelm the Sangeheili, hypothetically of course. Hypothetically, it would be simple for the colonel to fill his crew with men and women who had lost everything in the war, and would be eager to strike back, and swear to secrecy. Hypothetically, it wasn't just the vast squad of Helljumpers that she had to worry about.

"How was your time with the Elites?" Kalashnikov asked in his usual enthusiastic way.

"Bunch of over grown geckos. There was an attack about a week ago, on one of their ships, by pirates. They never stopped whining about it. How many of us fell to their glassings, but one act of piracy and you would think it was the end of the world with them."

Kalashnikov chuckled. "Good to see that not everyone has fallen under the Arbiter's swansong." He thought to himself. "We have known each other for so long."

"You were my commanding officer through how many hell holes? How are Eva and Nic?"

Kalashnikov took a small photograph out of the breast pocket of his armor and handed it to the lieutenant. "I'm not there enough," he said sadly, though he still managed to maintain his smile. "To see them grow, to help them blow out their candles, to kiss their scraped knees. But such is the life we have chosen. Or has been chosen for us."

"One day they'll understand why daddy was always away."

"Of course they will, but what about now? I can break away from my patrols perhaps twice a year, for a week at most. Half the time they don't even recognize me. It's just not fair." He thought to himself again. "How's Tiny?"

"How should I know? I never see him. My own son, and I never see him. My sister is more of a mother to him than I have ever been. At least the war is over now. Fewer risks. All we have to worry about is the Brutes, and they can't do much save run away when we enter a sector."

"Yes, for now at least. So long as the Elites hold up their promises of peace."  
"Say what you like about them, but their word is their bond."

"What if they decided that we are unworthy of their word? How long ago was it that our only contact with them was at the end of a rifle? Would you like to see something interesting?"

Kimber lifted an eyebrow in interest, and followed after the colonel.

---

"He's become my favorite…obsession."

The jail, like everything else on the _Kingdom Come, _was impressive, despite having only four cells. In fact, a lot of it was simply empty space: a high ceiling and white floor as far as the eye could see. White walls gave the illusion of an endless void. Probably some sort of psychological reason for that that Kimber didn't understand. The smell of chlorine was intense, she was aware of the purpose of that. Kalashnikov smiled, cocking his head towards the pathetic lump of overgrown fur that lay curled up at a far corner of the second cell from the door.

"Is that a-"

"Brute, yes, we captured it during one of our raids."

"And the Elites allowed you to keep him like this? I thought the policy was on the spot execution."

Kalashnikov thought to himself. "Need the Elites know?"

"You didn't put the Brute in your report?"

"Our attack was after hours, you might say."  
"God Greg, do you realize how much trouble you could get in for this?"

"Taking it upon myself to remove a threat from the galaxy? Yes, to think, I may get a Medal of Honor."

"Going against direct orders, operating outside the system, taking a Brute as your pet. The Elites will be furious if they ever find out. You'll be lucky if you aren't court marshaled. Scratch that, you'll be lucky if you aren't executed."

Kalashnikov sighed and shook his head. "Fiat justitia ruat caelum."

"Stop the Latin," she snapped.

"You look into that cell, at that Brute, and tell me that what I did was wrong. Think about every ship, every colony that he _would_ have attacked had I not done anything? They are too stupid to stop. They are too stupid to surrender and ask for peace. He would keep on killing and killing until someone killed him. Think about all they took from us, how many he would have taken from us? Think about Timothy."

"Don't you dare mention him," she snapped.

The colonel took a breath. "I'm sorry, that was crossing the line. But I and my men have taken it upon ourselves to remove these threats from the galaxy, these animals that rape and pillage and run like broken dogs when we seek retaliation. We cut through the red tape and get stuff done. Do you really think there is anything wrong with that?"

Kimber sighed, nervously.

"And this isn't all," he said with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"We are plotting our next attack. We just need to confirm our target. Would you like to have a hand in it?"

She looked back to the Brute without answering. "Why not just kill him though? Why keep him in the cage?"

"Death is unbefitting one such as he. A quick and painless hole through the head. Unfortunately for the Brute, I don't believe in hell outside this life, so I've taken it upon myself to punish him."

Kimber thought to herself. "Do you think you could leave me alone with _it_ for a while?"

"You don't feel sorry for that creature, do you?"

"Of course not, but this strikes me as a rare opportunity. We've never had a prisoner. Everything we know about them is from the Elites, and the Elites aren't exactly unbiased in their opinions."  
"Tuum nosce hostem. The green button will release sleeping gas if he gets too rowdy; it knocks him out in a few good breaths. The red button will shut off the barrier. Do not, under any circumstances, push the red button. He may try to trick you, just remember, everything he says is a lie."

"What's he going to say that would possibly urge me to open the cell?"

The colonel didn't answer. "Spend as much time as you like down here. But needless to say, do not let it out. I will not negotiate with a monster."

He smiled at her, even nudged her slightly in a playful gesture, before turning and walking out the door. She spent a long time after that just staring. Perhaps the Brute didn't know she was there, perhaps he did, but he didn't move. His legs were extended out and his arms were at his side, his neck was limp and his chin lay on his chest. Maybe he was sleeping. If not for the rise and fall of his massive shoulders, the inflation and deflation of his stomach and chest, she would have thought him dead.

"Come for your pound of flesh, Betty? Be quick, I don't know how much longer I will last." He didn't lift his eyes to look at her, or even move save opening and closing his thick lips. He mumbled a lot, with his deep gravely voice he was nearly inaudible.

The acknowledgement surprised her, but she said calmly, "No. I just came to talk. And my name is Nicole." She wondered about why he called her that. Did he mistake her for someone else, or was he just toying with her. Maybe he was delusional from captivity, he looked starved. And there was something about being locked in a cell for any length of time that tended to drive even the strongest a little crazy. No matter.

The Brute's laughter rolled like thunder, bouncing through the room and rattling her bones. He stood, stumbling slightly and bracing himself against the wall. Shaggy, unkept fur covered his body, but just beneath it Kimber could see ribs and bones poking angrily out of the skin that hung loosely on his skeleton. He didn't move with that ferocity so often attributed to his kind. He was slow, as if every movement pained him, keeping himself braced against the wall. He stumbled once, the sound of several hundred pounds of Brute hitting the sterile, steel ground was deafening, and took a long time standing back up. He was pathetic. A Brute, pathetic? There was something unnatural about that idea.

"What would you like to talk about, Jenny?"

She thought to herself. "Why do you hate the Elites?"

"Why do you?"

"We were at war with them for a long time. We lost a lot of good people. Scars like that don't fade quickly."

"Then it would seem we have some things in common, Alice."

"Care to explain?"

"From the moment my fathers joined the Covenant, the Sangheili have been out to get us. They feared us, because they know that we are their superior. When I was much younger, I was blessed by the Forerunners to serve on one of the few Jiralhanae commanded ships in the Covenant's navy. It was a hand-me-down, and barely functioning, but it was ours. The Sangeheili saw to it that we lacked many basic things: proper weaponry, standard life-support systems, gravity lifts. It was filled with holes and we were not permitted to make repairs. But it was ours. We continued fighting. Our faith gave us strength. Not like the godless dogs, so easily swayed into heresy. Have you any idea how many Jiralhanae were lost because we lacked basic equipment, and how the Sangheili laughed as we fell. But we persisted. And we have persisted to this day."

"Colonel Kalashnikov captured you."

"Yes. My pack was fleeing from you humans and the heretic dogs. But you caught us, and slaughtered us. The one called Kalashnikov, the one with the blue eyes, has denied me a death with my mate and kin. It shall be his mistake, for I shall feel his bones break in my grip. No matter how many Sangheilli he slaughters, his deeds cannot go unpunished."

"Sangheili slaughtered?"  
A thunderous chuckle. "Yes. A pity that more humans aren't like him. He brags about how many Sangheili he has murdered. He brags about how no one will ever find him out. He is a fool. The Sangheili will discover the treachery, and their retribution shall be swift. Another war shall be started: you two are far too in love with violence to live in peace. Let you two fight it out. My people shall reign supreme in the end. We know to wait, to bide our time. And then we will strike, and finish you off."

"He killed Sangheili?"

"You need to listen better, Jessica," the Jiralhanae said with a confused, spaceyness in his eyes that meant he very well could have been lying or confused. He wobbled as if he were about to collapse. "He brags about it daily, he keeps trophies in his room. Listening to him, it's a fate worse than death."

"Thank you for your time, chieftan. I shall see to it that you are fed."

---

There was something indescribably frightening about seeing a Sangheili wield his energy sword on the field of battle. An eight foot six alien, roaring and snarling, racing over the grounds through a hail of automatic fire, just to leap high into the sky and land gracefully in the midst of his attackers. That they could use the blades so effectively only added to the fury, the fear. Kimber stayed hidden in the doorway of Rtas' personal quarters, watching him as he practiced his swordsmanship. There was something unnatural about how he moved. His kind was certainly blessed: nothing that large, and that strong, should be able to move with that grace. Add a tactical, often brilliant mind, and they were the perfect specimen. Friedrich Nietzsche's wet dream.

Rtas finished his katas with a devastating strike that no doubt cleaved his invisible opponent in two. Whether he was aware of Kimber the entire time or not, he didn't show it as he calmly placed his blade on his belt. "Have you learned anything of interest?"

"No shipmaster."

"A Jiralhanae taken prisoner is not something of interest, in your humble opinion?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Lucky guess," he mocked.

"There is a Brute, an elderly one I would guess from his white fur, in the ship's jail. The colonel claims to have captured him during an unsanctioned attack on one of their ships."

"And that does not strike you as odd?"

"Everyone with a halfway decent force attacks Brutes after hours; it's like a national pastime. Our superiors just look the other way. I'm guessing that you guys do something similar, avoid all the red tape? I am not sure that Colonel Kalashnikov is the one at fault for the attack on the _Blameless Grace_, shipmaster."

"You are lying."

"No shipmaster, I have my suspicions just as you do, but I ask you not to do anything until I am sure. I don't want an innocent life on my conscience."

"And what of _my_ innocent?"

Kimber cringed. "Would like to discuss innocents, shipmaster? You murdered my husband. Let use the proper word, shipmaster: murder. The unjustified, unnecessary, unwarranted taking of a life. You and your kind allowed yourself to be manipulated, and you murdered over a million people. You, unjustifiably, took over a million innocent lives. And I swear one thing to you, shipmaster, I will not allow you to take another innocent life as long as I live."

She watched as his fingers twitched, his hand flexed. She was fully expecting him to execute her at any moment, to feel his fingers at her throat. This time he would squeeze, a brief moment of pressure and she would just be a lifeless hunk. But should she die at this very moment, her soul would be at peace. She continued staring up to his spiraling height, though she couldn't make eye contact. Her vision was awash with his blinding white armor.

"Your retribution can wait a few more days," she said, when she couldn't take the silence any more.

Rtas thought to himself. He turned and walked deeper into his quarters, resting in his comfortable arm chair and reclining back. "I understand your concerns, lieutenant. I _am_ going to inform the Arbiter of my suspicions, but request that he refrain from taking action, yet."

She bowed. "Thank you, shipmaster. May I ask you a question?"

"You may ask me anything. If I am offended and choose to relieve your shoulders of your head, is the real question."

"What is the nature of your species…tension with the Brutes?"

"The Jiralhanae are savages. What more reason do we need?"

"The Grunts are idiots. The Jackals are pirates. The Hunters are, well I don't know what the Hunters are to be honest. But why the Brutes? I am aware that you don't have much respect for any of the races that composed the Covenant, but why them specifically? Your hatred for them seems to overshadow any hatred for the Prophets. Where did it come from? You two are so similar, I would think you would be good buddies, fighting side by side, holding the Covenant up on your shoulders."

In one quick leap, the shipmaster had left his chair and crossed the room, and Kimber now found herself craning her neck to look up into his eyes. All in one leap, not once had he touched down and ran the rest of the way. How she didn't fall backwards would always be a mystery to her, and she was terrified that any moment she would feel his fingers fasten around her neck. "We are nothing alike."

"Shipmaster, if we are to work together, I would like to understand your culture. I would be more than happy to explain any aspect of mine."  
Rtas took a soothing breath and walked back to his chair.

"You call them 'Brutes'. How foolish of you. They are not simple, mindless savages, if only they were. They are intelligent and power-hungry warriors. My fathers didn't want them in the Covenant. They wanted them exterminated and their planet glassed. But the Prophets saw things differently, and offered them membership. My fathers and their fathers and myself, we all did everything we could to keep them oppressed. We didn't allow them to command ships, and when they could the ships were inferior. We kept them as guards instead of soldiers. We wanted them to screw up so bad we would have an excuse to gas them, or maybe they would get tired and quite. But they worked through it. Dare I say, every obstacle we put before them only made them stronger. And, just as we feared, they slaughtered my brothers by the droves with cowardly tactics. We knew that they could not be trusted, but we didn't do enough to keep them at bay."

"It's a pity that you couldn't put your differences aside. You are both incredible specimens."

Rtas gave a low growl, preventing her from pushing the issue farther.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

The Helljumpers maintained a strenuous regime, even during these times of peace. A good six hours a day was dedicated to training. Particularly close quarters combat. The idea that a human could survive an intimate encounter with a Brute was unheard of years ago, but humans were adaptable creatures. Training consisted of evasion, dodging, and cardio endurance. Very little of what would be thought of as combat, mostly get away, get out of reach, and flee to a safe distance. Meele combat still carried the stigma of extremely high mortality, but a few soldiers had managed to dodge the heavy hammers raining down from the sky, and escape with their life.

"It's a style I came up with, just modified CQC really, the stuff they teach in basic," the colonel explained as he demonstrated how to get out of a two handed strangle hold. An hour or two ago, Kimber had come down with a fitful cough, and rubbed her throat in the hopes of easing the pain. The extensive makeup had smeared on her hand, and Kalashnikov noticed the purple welts. He questioned her of course, how she received such wounds, and she hadn't lied by saying she had angered an Elite who showed his dominance by choking her for a few moments. He made sure not to grip so tightly that that she may be in danger, but he did hold her tight. "The Brutes aren't going to be gentle," he had explained.

"Put both hands over your head, then slide them down so the wrist is caught under your arm. It works alright on Elites, a Brute's arm is pretty thick, but try it just the same, better than doing nothing. If their choking you, they probably aren't putting all their focus on you. You should be able to slip away. Then you run like hell, got that?"

"You mean my four foot nine frame shouldn't duke it out with King Kong Jr.?"

Kalashnikov chuckled, and pulled one of the dozens of survival knives from his vest, taking the blade and passing it to Kimber. She had never been very good with knives, but took it and looked it over as if she were an expert. "If you need to stab them, don't aim for the torso. Too much muscle and fat, it's like giving a paper cut. I wouldn't be surprised if the knife gets caught in their fur. Face would be good, they have something like our jugular veins just under the chin. But I doubt anyone could reach all the way up there, and it's not like they won't be guarding. Aim for the foot. Drop to your knees like you're begging for mercy, and stab them just up and to the side of the big toe. Hurts like hell, plus they'll think twice about bothering to chase you down when their foot is throbbing."

"You ever face down a Brute?"

"No, during the raids, we keep our distance. We've got a few men who pack salt buckshots in case the Brutes get through the hail of rifle fire. A face full of it will stun one, even when berserking. That's how we were able to take the chieftan alive. Went at it with an Elite once."

"When?"

"Sometime during the war. Didn't end too well. Four broken ribs, a concussion, right arm dislocated, broken leg and foot, and lost my left hand." He rolled up his sleeve to show the scar where the doctors and surgeons had reattached the limb, just to prove he wasn't lying. "He must have thought I was dead. He cut off my arm and I just passed out. I didn't bleed out only because the energy blades cauterized the wound. Lucky me."

"Yes lucky you!"

"You ever wonder why we lived and others didn't? Why that Elite killed my whole squad but passed over me?"

Kimber shrugged. "No, I figure that keeps me sane."

"I've thought about it. Why didn't that Elite make sure? A simple fluke? Maybe his boss called him off to other duty so he didn't have a chance to make sure everyone was dead. Maybe he was just bored and doing a half assed job. Maybe he thought I was dead. I should have been dead, people die for less. Call me narcissistic, but I do believe I was spared for a reason, by fate or divinity."

"What reason would that be?"

The colonel thought to himself, carefully, choosing his words as if they were a weapon he would be taking into the heat of battle. "Too make sure humanity is never, ever on the losing end of a war again." He turned and walked to his desk. "Speaking of which, would you like to see something?"

Kimber shrugged.

He pulled out a few large pieces of paper, about three feet by four feet, spreading them on his desk, then putting a stapler and a mug that said **World's Greatest Dad** at the sides to keep it from rolling up. They were immediately identified as blueprints: the white sketches contrasting sharply on the azure paper. "I'm trying to figure out a way to put a bayonet onto the bottom of our assault rifles. I got the idea from the Brute's weapon. Course, what we're up against, I doubt any of us have the muscle to stab through them with a normal bayonet. So I'm trying to figure out a way to put a chainsaw on."

Kimber lifted an eyebrow. "You serious?"

"It's a great idea if I can make it work. The Brute comes charging forward and I dodge, then rev it up and cut them to quivering little bits. But there are problems with the weight, how to power it, how to activate it. If only I can get it to work. You know my great, great, great ancestor, he was a weapons designer. He changed the face of warfare. I guess it's in my blood."

---

"You hear anything?"

Savage looked up from his video game, his thumbs still moving in rehearsed motions, and the assorted beeps and boops that accompanied the game still sounding off. His attention turned back to the game as he talked. "None of the cameras work."

"What do you mean?" She pointed to one of the cameras that hung from the far right corner, the red light beneath it blinking rhythmically.

"Yep, that's not plugged in to anything. If they were doing something of a questionable nature, I guess they don't want a record of it. But if anyone, like us, comes by, we'll see the lights blinking and figure everything is just dandy."

"Or?" she asked. "There is some sort of logical explanation right?"

"None that I can think of?"

"How bout you?" she asked of Wesson.

"No one has said anything. I guess we aren't lucky enough for some silver tongued Helljumper to mention that they targeted the _Blameless Grace_ and then killed everyone on board. But everyone seems to have war trophies in their rooms: Needlers, those sniper rifle things the Jackals love so much. I even saw one of the medics at the firing range using a Plasma Rifle. Not to mention everyone, at all times, is armed. The cooks and engineers, the non-combatants, they've all got magnums or SMGs on their belt."

She sighed, thinking to herself, rationalizing. "The colonel admitted to attacking some Brutes. Would make sense that they have some of their weapons, he's got a dozen weapons on his walls. And the Covenant doesn't take prisoners. Most people would rather go down fighting. There is no such thing as noncombatants in this war."

It was Savage who spoke up next. "I know that you and the colonel go way back, but I'm starting to think that the shipmaster is right. I mean, it's getting harder and harder to say that he's wrong."

"Where's Colt," she asked, eager to change the subject.

"In his room, drinking."

"Go talk to him. Or at least make sure he's not sleeping on his back."

Wesson nodded, saluted, and left.

"You feeling alright?" Savage asked.

"It can't be Greg," she muttered.

"We all lost people in the war. For a long time, all I wanted was to kill them all. I still want to kill them all. I mean, that temptation is there for all of us."

"It can't be Greg," she repeated.

---

Even Colonel Kalashnikov had to admire the craftsmanship that the Elites put into their weapons. The exact science behind their blades was still a mystery, how the energy just burst forth from the handle and solidified, sharp and hot enough to burn any it touched, and yet held its sword like shape, not expanding infinitely out. Like a cutting torch he supposed. How it burned when it touched.

He heard a footstep, and he turned, but was surprised to see no one standing in the threshold of his door. No one in the corner. No one on his bed. A trick of the mind perhaps? He was a bit tired, the stress and tedium of the patrols may have been beating down on him. No, he knew better, and stretched his hand across his desk to set off the alarm, but something took firm hold of him by the wrist and yanked him away. His feet left the ground and he was lifted up. The air before him swirled, as it did during a heat wave, and he found himself looking into the eyes of an Elite, a moment before a grip found his throat.

"Fuck you," he spat, as the Elite began to squeeze.

Both arms over the head, then snapping them down. Perhaps it would have worked, had this Elite's attention wondered to other things, or if he were engaged with others. But this Elite stared directly at him, mutilated face unflinching, taking in every moment of his death. He tried to break the grip again, but he was too strong.

---

Kimber's pace was quick as she hurried to Kalashnikov's personal quarters. The last thing she wanted was to seem suspicious to any of the soldiers, but she also wanted to get there as soon as possible. Everything was falling into place, reinforcing her already burning suspicions. No matter what she told herself, the words were always there.

Especially what the Brute had said. Perhaps he was lying, but why? What did he have to gain? She hadn't offered freedom should he tell her what she wanted to hear. In fact he had no way of knowing that she was suspicious at all. For all he knew, she was one of the soldiers who had killed his kin. And maybe there was a perfectly rational explanation as to what Savage had learned.

She walked into the colonel's room without knocking, and froze when she saw the half-jawed Elite holding Kalashnikov off the ground by the throat, Kalashnikov squirming and twisting like kitten. The shipmaster noticed her as well, looked towards her, and wondered what she would do. Instinct over took any reason and she drew her pistol and fired four precise bullets into the shipmaster's helmet and forearm, though she aimed only for the spots that were well covered by armor. He dropped Kalashnikov, and turned his attention to Kimber, who held her weapon in a defensive manner before her, but didn't fire any more shots. Attention now focused, there was no way she could defend against him. He could cross the room in a single pounce and fall upon her before she even pulled the trigger. But he seemed hesitant, just staring at her, trying to connect bullet shots in his armor and the smoking gun in her quivering hand.

It had been a mistake to turn his attention away from Kalashnikov, who charged forward and crashed into the Elite, tackling him out the door and into the hallway. Rtas was caught off balance, and fell, smacking into the hallway's wall, making a large dent by his weight. But he quickly regained his composure, and swatted the human away.

Kalashnikov grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall as the Elite approached. The burst of white mist distorted his vision to the point that the colonel could charge over and smash the extinguisher in the chest. Another blow, using the extinguisher's full momentum, swinging it with the ease of a child playing with a yo-yo, into the Elite's jaw and knocking him on his back. Lifting the fire extinguisher above his head, the colonel dropped it. A pool of drool began to ooze out from the missing half of the shipmaster's face.

"I want to know how he got onto my ship without my knowing." Kalashnikov set down the extinguisher, suddenly feeling light headed. He leaned against the wall, holding himself, dizzy. "Go," he shouted to a private, who gave a quick salute before scurrying off to fulfill his orders.

"You should sit down," Kimber said kindly. "I've been choked by an Elite before. There's no telling how long your brain was without oxygen. Even a few moments can do some damage."

"Thank you so much for your concern," he said lovingly. "But I'm fine, and how an Elite could get onto my ship is much more important. I am just thankful that he came after me first. If any man had fallen to his hand, I would never forgive myself. I am not surprised they would send an assassin. Do you know who that was? The shipmaster of the _Shadow of Intent_. The real question is, why would the Elites send such a soldier as him? I think I should be flattered."

"Why are you not surprised they would send an assassin?"

"We cannot trust them, Nicole. Not by any means. Hannibal ad portas. They will tolerate us as long as we don't set our sights too high, but the moment that we over step whatever boundary they have drawn in the sand, they will come down upon us with the wrath of god, for no reason at all."

"Lex talionis," she countered under her breath.

**This is kind of a transitional chapter, meant to shift the tone into phase two of the story. Hope you liked it.**


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Kurr looked in the mirror, in awe at his complete lack of reflection, for a long time. A claw tapped the active camouflage on his chest, the air shivered and he rematerialized, and his reflection stared back at him. He chewed nervously on his respirator, and looked over his shoulder to the clock. It took him a long time to do the calculations, but he finally determined that the shipmaster had been gone for approximately one hour. Kurr's orders were to come looking for him, though the Unggoy had assumed that was just a joke. After all, how could the shipmaster possibly need rescuing? Tapping the camouflage, and chewing so loudly on his mouthpiece he was sure that any humans who were close enough would hear him, he left the sanctity of the _Shining Wisdom_ and went off to look for his commanding officer.

It was terrifying to say the least. No friends or family or leader to inspire him with their strength. At any moment he was sure that his camouflage would fail and every human he passed would suddenly be upon him. It was a makeshift design, Rtas had crafted it during the long hours he waited on the ship for word from Lieutenant Kimber, composed of various replacement pieces that Rtas carried, should any of the components of his armor fail. It was certainly not as reliable as the one the shipmaster used, but Kurr took pride in it. He had been granted what had always been denied his lowly species. It was a mark of pride, and the trust that Rtas had placed in him swelled his loyalty to the point that he felt he could brave ship.

Of course, he was still an Unggoy, and when the chance to move completely out of sight presented itself in the form of an air vent near the ground, he pried the grate open and climbed inside. Yes, this was much better, to be sure. In the darkness, where it was safe. He shut off the camouflage, not sure it had a limited life or rechargeable battery, but not wanting to take the chance either.

He spent a lot of the time not knowing where he was going, but since he didn't have an actual destination, it didn't occur to him that it mattered much. He mostly just went as far as one direction would take him, peeping out of any vents he found. He eavesdropped on the conversations of passing humans, but they seemed mostly concerned with when their next trip to planet side would be and "what amazing pieces of tail they would catch to play fetch with all night," whatever that meant. The odds of finding the shipmaster were impossibly low of course, but maybe he could find Lieutenant Kimber, or one of the other humans. Maybe they knew where Rtas was. And besides, if he checked every inch of the ship, eventually he would find the shipmaster. It just may take a while.

After what seemed like an eternity of wandering, by grace of the Forerunners he popped his head out of a vent and noticed what was a jail, judging by the crimson, semi-transparent walls. A neat trick that the humans had come up with by analyzing the prisons the Covenant used. The exact science was lost to him, but if it could stop a Jiralhanae, it had to be something neat. The jail was quite large, lots and lots of cells stretching forward, but only a few had the crimson barrier.

The chieftan looked up to him and gave a low, interested growl. He stood and began a lopping forward with an awkward gait. "And what brings you here? Were you sent by Cascus and his pack?"

"I'm looking for my commanding officer," Kurr said calmly. After all, so long as he was on the right side of the barrier, there wasn't much he could do. And besides, truth be told, Kurr didn't really have any hatred for the Jiralhanae. He had joined with the Sangheili in the civil war because he had a certain affection for a few Sangheili, but if he had been stationed with a Jiralhanae commander, he would have followed that commander through hell and back.

"The humans brought him in a while ago," the cheiftan said, cocking his head to the cell beside him.

Kurr gave a salute of thanks, before scurrying along the wall. "Shipmaster," he shrieked when he saw his unconscious commanding officer. He tried pounding on the barrier, but shrieked when the skin on his hand began melting off bone. "Shipmaster, please, wake up. Shipmaster!"

"He's not dead," the chieftan muttered, shaking his head. "The tranqs, they're a killer. Just give him a moment."

The first movement he noticed was the clenching of Rtas' hand, followed by a click of his mandibles, and both hands pushing beneath him and hoisting him up. He rubbed his head, and checked over his now nude form in search of any significant wounds. "Kurr?" he asked. "Where am I?"

"A jail sir, as near as I can tell."

"The lieutenant. I knew we couldn't trust the humans."

"It was her?"

"Yes, it was her and the colonel. Them together." He roared, so loudly that Kurr took an instinctual step back. Some Sangehieil had been known to vent their frustrations on his kind. Even with the red wall, old fears were slow to die.

They both heard the scuffling at the doorway to their side. Kurr lifted his Needler towards the threshold, but with a sharp tone, Rtas told him to hide. That struck him as a more agreeable solution. He charged back to the safety of his vent, shadowed in the darkness of a corner, with the added stealth of his camouflage, and there he hid, shivering, as a human entered the jail. Not the colonel, by grace of the rings. The colonel was a terrifying presence, and Kurr doubted he would be able to come to his commanding officer aid if face to face. Rather, it was the lieutenant, who scared him but not that much.

"You dare show your face here?" Rtas snarled.

"Shipmaster, I already told you that I will not allow you to take another innocent life, and until proven guilty, the colonel is innocent."

"You still refuse to open your eyes? You are more blind than we were."

"I'm not convinced."

"He had one of _our_ blades. Now tell me, how could he get that? Those are our most sacred weapons. The only way he would get it is if he took it off a corpse."

"Perhaps he got it before the treaty was in place, during the war. Did you think of that before you tried to pop his head off?"

Rtas gave a roar, storming back and punching the third wall, then shaking his hand free of the tingle, wondering what these walls could be made of.

"Shipmaster, this is a delicate situation. You have to understand. Colonel Kalashnikov, he's a hero. He was there in the beginning, fighting against you. He led resistance cells when you were attacking Earth, and he has continued to serve the armed forces rather than retiring in his age. We can't just expose him as terrorist. Lord Hood, the Master Chief, they are the messiahs of our race, they were our guiding light in the darkest hour. But the colonel is the everyman. He's the regular guy who still fights. Have you any idea the fallout if he were revealed to be a terrorist?"

"Then what do you propose, lieutenant?"

"I don't know, I'm making this up as I go along. Why couldn't you stay on the goddamn ship?"

"My people were killed, their murderer walks free, and you just expect me to click my mandibles and wait? No, _human_. I have removed any doubt, and if you would open your eyes, you would do the same. I shall escape from this prison, contact the Arbiter and have Colonel Kalashnikov and every human on this ship brought to justice, with or without your consent."

Kimber closed her eyes and lowered her head. She had absolutely no doubt that Rtas could find a way to escape. Perhaps he had set a timed bomb at the ship's generator and would escape during the blackout, perhaps he knew of some weakness in the fourth wall that even the humans didn't, perhaps he was manipulating her and she would somehow release him thinking that she was reinforcing his captivity. He was only in his present confines because he chose to be in his present confines.

"What would happen if it were revealed that the Arbiter glassed a planet since the treaty has been in place?" she asked. "What if you, Shipmaster of the _Shadow of Intent,_ slaughtered an entire colony of unarmed human babies? Imagine the backlash. Imagine how quickly everything that we have built, everything that has been done between the Sangheili and the humans just crumbled into dust. Shipmaster, this is more important than your brethren who were killed, this is more important than you, or me, or Kalashnikov. This is about maintaining peace, do you understand?"

"You are a wonderful speaker, lieutenant. And your words carry truth. But each time they lose a little flare, and eventually I will cease to be swayed."

"I understand shipmaster. And I thank you."

Kurr waited patiently for the lieutenant to leave before he crawled back out from the vent and stood in front of the shipmaster.

"You're orders sir?"

"Do you remember the way back to the ship?"

Kurr thought to himself. "I could find my way back." And he could. It just might take a while.

"And when you find the ship, could you get back here?"

"Yes sir."

"Return to the ship. The Arbiter should be contacting us soon, update him on everything that has happened. Once a day, come back here and I will give you further orders. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

Rtas smiled. "You are a good soldier, Kurr. Above all else, be careful. Do not tell any of the humans about this, under any circumstances. Don't even let them see you. Don't stay on the ship any longer than it takes to contact the Arbiter."

"Yes sir." Kurr saluted, and scurried off on all fours.

"And what is to stop me from telling the humans about the Unggoy?" Thantus sneered. "It would be extremely easy for them to set a trap for one as stupid as he."

"I imagine you would not wish to aid the humans in anyway."

"Yes, but I would also love to hinder you. If only there where a way to do both."

Rtas growled.

"The humans slaughtered my pack; executed my brood, my brothers and my mate. Feel lucky that my hatred for them outweighs my disdain for you. For the time being, at least. But my silence comes at a cost, Sangeheili."

"And what is that?"

"Should my execution come before yours, you will see to it that the one called Kalashnikov is killed."

So odd, to receive a request from a blood enemy at all. It was as if it were a trick and Rtas struggled to detect some sort of deception in the simple, innocent appeal. But he could find nothing. The Jiralhanae was angry at the loss of his kin. Nothing more. To be cruel, he could have denied the Jiralhanae and left him without a hope in the world, then kill the colonel anyway, as he fully intended to do, but at last he said, "I shall see to it."

---

"_Rtas. Rtas answer me, please."_

The Unggoy had to stand on the chair that Rtas normally sat in, and even then he had to stretch as far forward as he could, on his toes, to reach the transmission button. The shipmaster had requested Savage hack into the _Kingdom Come_'s transmitter, so that the dialogue could continue. "Shipmaster is not here right now, can Kurr take a message?"

"_Kurr?" _asked the Arbiter over the radio. "_Who the hell are you? Where is Rtas?"_

Kurr swallowed hard. "Excellence, much has happened. Perhaps too much to explain, but I shall do my best." He took a deep breath of methane. "Shipmaster believes, knows, who committed the attack. It is a human colonel by the name of Call-ash-knee-cough. He seems to be friends with lieutenant. Shipmaster tried to execute colonel, but lieutenant stop him. Now shipmaster is in custody, but alive. But shipmaster agree to let lieutenant try to work this out."

"_Rtas."_ Even over the radio, the Arbiter's panic was evident. "_I need to trust his judgment. I assume that you are free of capture?"_

"Yes excellence. I never caught, no one even know I am here. Except lieutenant and her men, but I hid from them."

"_Keep me updated, Kurr, understood?"_

"Yes sir, I understand well."

So now Kurr found himself with much more responsibility than he believed any Unggoy before him had. He hoped to be promoted to a status of Deacon after this. That would nice, no more combat.

At first he had to run messages between the Arbiter and the shipmaster, but at last he stole a small transmitter from the humans and gave it to Rtas, then wired it into the _Shining Wisdom's _computer, so that he could talk directly to his old friend. He smuggled food in, enough rations that Rtas ate well, even when he was supposed to only be given enough that he didn't starve.

The Jiralhanae proved more of a confusion. Every few days, the shipmaster ordered Kurr to give the Chieftan a share of the stolen rations. At first he refused the morsels, putting them at the opposing end of the cell, but his hunger proved greater than his animosity, and he ate them, wrapping and all, popping them into his oversized mouth. The last of his duties was simple monkey wrenching: he would unplug outlets, cross wires, steal batteries and put sand into the electronics to trigger a short circuit. Nothing big. Nothing that would make the colonel suspect he was doing anything, and more than once Kurr thought that Rtas had no other intention than to frustrate the colonel for the fun of it. But Kurr had to admit, he enjoyed it. When he overheard conversations from his hiding places, he could hear Kalashnikov's wrath. Furious that his computers kept crashing, that his lights didn't work, that the doors didn't open when he walked by. He was particularly annoyed when the batteries for the remote of the television in the rec room disappeared. More than once the colonel stormed into the prison and glared at the shipmaster, who sat calmly against the far wall. He must have suspected something, but couldn't figure out what. He posted men at the prison, and they stood, but things kept breaking.

And most importantly, Kurr liked the shipmaster. Prior to this, he had never served under him, but many of his brother's had, and they spoke nothing but praise. His orders were never: "Unggoy, go charge into the hail of fire," but "Unggoy, middle position," or "Unggoy, stay behind the Sangheili and give covering fire. Stay out of reach." Such simple orders. Logical even: to put the most competent soldiers, best at defending, at the front and the lesser soldiers at the back. Minimize casualties. But most commanders cared not for tactics. How many Unggoy were preserved? How many of his brothers and sisters didn't fall? To say the least, it was an honor to serve.

---

"The walls won't yield," Rtas said when he couldn't tolerate the pounding of Jiralhanae against barrier any longer, the routine thump, thump, thump. "Keep it up and I won't have Kurr feed you."

Thantus banged once again, but slumped and rubbed tired and sore muscles. "Why are you feeding me at all?"

"A master does have to take care of his pet."

The thumping started anew until Rtas said, "I am buying your silence."

Thantus marveled at what the walls could be made of, that he hadn't made a dent. It hurt his pride more than anything, that the humans should develop a metal that could stop him. He rationalized by believing they had simply reverse engineered something the Covenant had. "Why do you hate us?"

Perhaps it was his confines that moved Rtas' lips, perhaps it was simple boredom and a craving for stimulation, but whatever the reason, he talked. "You killed our Council. You killed our people."

"Before that you boarded us in inferior ships, you kept us as heavies instead of soldiers. The Unggoy may enjoy their oppression, but we do not." He huffed like a child. "You started it."

"From the first moment you entered the Covenant, you only wished to surpass us, to steal our ranks and honors. And that's what you did. We had every right to seek to oppress you. You're are rabid dogs, and we would have put you down if you didn't snuggle up to Truth."

"So we should just sit at your hooves and eat scraps off the table? We should never set our sights higher? We should never achieve what we are capable of if it might hurt your feelings?"

"You shouldn't seek to steal what is ours. We have been in the Covenant since the beginning. We should serve on a level with the Prophets. That is our right, and that is our honor. You should have been content at our hooves or left. We were always your better."

"And yet you could not protect Regret?"

"And you could not protect Mercy or Truth." Rtas thought to himself. "Besides, the San 'Shyuum were deceiving us. Better they all fell."

Thantus smashed powerfully against the wall. "The San 'Shyuum showed us the path to the Great Journey. It was your faithlessness that allowed the journey to fail. Your precious heretic working with the Demon. You should have fallen on your blade rather than accept such an atrocity."

"The journey was a lie."

Thantus sighed. "Why, because your precious heretic told you so? How was his word greater than Truth's? Or Tartarus'? It matters not now, the Prophets are dead, the rings are gone, and your Sangheili and human alliance is hunting down my brethren with frenzied viciousness. I doubt you will stop until we are all dead."

"Fear not, we will simply reduce you to slathering, warring beasts that cannot possibly pose a threat to us. Perhaps glass your planet, but we will allow you a few colonies to live, the humans have this disdain for complete genocidal extermination, a checkered history of it, against their own kind. They have felt our glassings, and will perhaps speak out against it. 'A fate I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy,' that sort of thing." Rtas thought of what the human had said to him, about how similar they were. "I will kill you when this is done."  
And the chieftan sighed. "I don't care if you kill me or if I kill you. My pack is dead. And, perhaps, if the Great Journey was not completely truthful, where does that leave them? My children. My mate. Shipmaster, all I care about is the colonel's death."


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Kalashnikov demanded. "I don't know how you are doing it, but I know you are."

From his spot, against the far wall, the shipmaster watched as the human fumed, his usually pale and icy complexion now steaming. There was no smug look on the shipmaster's face, no glint in his eyes that may have been confirmation of the accusations. He just sat there, staring back, but inside he was laughing. Paranoia, fear, confusion. They were such fun things to watch. This, the strongest the humans had to offer, reduced to a frightened child after an Unggoy had cut a few buttons off his jacket. He had gassed Rtas, and when the shipmaster was unconscious, ran a full sweep of the cell. He put Rtas in a different cell, perhaps something was wrong with the first's fourth wall. He had posted sentries at the jail's door, and when that ceased to work, he had guards watch Rtas in his cell at all hours of the day. Kurr wasn't stupid enough to appear at those times. He merely continued with his shenanigans.

"You think you are so smart. All you lizards, you think you are so clever. That us poor little humans can't play on the same level. But I bet you didn't think of this."

The colonel pushed an open palm on to the green button at the side of the cell. Rtas looked up, to the vents, and the invisible, whistling gas that was now pumping out. Without a show of fear, he took a deep breath.

When he woke next, he felt worse than he ever had before. Worse than after the mission on the _Infinite Successor_, the intense physical pain, worse than when he had to "talk" to Lord Hood and the metal strain that accompanied it. Worse then the countless times he had been through hell. His head was pounding in a way that wasn't physical, so there was no way he could massage the sore spot away. He still tried, and rubbed his eyes and the side of his head, but to no avail. It was familiar, a side effect of the gas. He'd yet to build a tolerance to it. However a small a gift it was, his head wasn't on the hard cold floor, but something soft and warm, like a pillow, and he was thankful for that tiny luxury. His sore jaw rested nicely.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a vast sea of white, and the smell of Jiralhanae overwhelmed him. The smell of musk and dry fur. He pushed himself up, drooling, mind spinning, that throbbing still evident behind his eyes, and noticed that he had been laying on top of the chieftain, on the stomach, which was why his head lifted and lowered so rhythmically. Thankfully, the chieftain was unconscious as well, and there were no humans to watch him. Such a compromising position would have been absolutely shameful.

As surprise faded, a sense of opportunity came to Rtas. The chieftain bumbled lowly in his gas induced slumber. If conscious, he would prove a great threat, a threat that could now be easily dealt with. Mounting him, the shipmaster placed his large, strong hands around the equally large, strong neck of the Jiralhanae. A moment's squeeze. A moment's pressure. That was all he needed. Push forward with the thumbs, into the laryngeal prominence, the human's called it "Adam's Apple" for whatever reason they had. Collapse the larynx, crush it. It keeps the victim from screaming, helpful if you have to kill them quietly. Crush the sides of the throat with uppermost part of the palm. The tips of the fingers should push into the spinal column, pushing towards the thumbs as if the tips are trying to meet. It cuts off the blood, death comes quicker that simple suffocation. The lack of air reaching the brain, a result of the compression of the sides of the neck with the palms, causes a sense of panic. The body struggles and fights for its every breath. But because the chieftain was unconscious, his resistance was minimal. He lifted his arms and tried to bat the shipmaster away, but mostly his slow heavy hands slapped through the air. Once his rough palm touched the shipmaster's wounded jaw, and Rtas shivered, but kept the pressure up. He mumbled and gagged and gasped. His tongue popped out from between his thick, rubbery lips. His eyes opened, however slightly, and he snarled loudly, again trying to knock the chieftain away.

Rtas' grip loosened. He placed a hoof on the ground, then pushed himself up. "I am an honorable warrior," he snapped. "Not like you, who would stab your own brother in his back. Who would betray your oaths without a second thought. No, I shall wait until you are awake, then I shall kill you."  
He turned, and took up residence at the opposing side of the cell, leaving the chieftain to his dreams.

A while later, the chieftain stirred. He pushed himself up and yawned widely. He seemed to have grown accustomed to the knockout gas, he didn't show any signs of discomfort. Rather, he shifted to a seated position, legs folded under him before he even realized that he was sharing his cell.

In an instant, he was standing and let loose loud roar. Rtas assumed a traditional Sangeheili unarmed combat stance. The chieftain certainly had the advantage; his vast bulk of protection and muscle compared to the leanness of the shipmaster, but this wouldn't be the first time that Rtas had killed a Jiralhanae with his bare hands.

"Is this a bad time?" Kurr asked from the opposite side of the crimson barrier. "I've brought the MREs. Should I feed Chieftain Excellency too?"

Neither Rtas nor Thantus moved.

"Excellencies, please keep from killing each other. I am scared what will happen if I don't have anyone to give me orders. I might have to obey the lieutenant."

"I will not try anything, so long as he does not." He lowered his arms and backed to the wall, sliding down to a seated position. Thantus lowered himself as well, but they both continued staring as if they hoped to gain some advantage.

A small cease in the crimson shield could be opened, so to pass rations into the prisoner without them having the chance to escape. Kurr had brought six MREs, three each, and slipped them into the cell. He then watched as the chieftain and the shipmaster carefully approached, took their meals, shrink-wrapped in plastic, and went back to their corners. The shipmaster carefully tore the meal open and, holding the bag over his open mouth, allowed the contents to pour down his throat. The chieftain simply popped the entire thing into his gaping maw and swallowed.

"Should I leave sirs?"

"Yes," said the shipmaster.

"Would you like my Needler?"

"No, I wouldn't want the colonel to find it and grow suspicious. Last time he inspected the cell, I had to swallow the transmitter. I can handle the chieftain if I need to."  
Kurr was worried about leaving his shipmaster who he served under, and the chieftain who, if fate had chosen a different path, he would have served under. He really didn't want them to kill each other. He liked the shipmaster and the chieftain hadn't done anything to him, and he would be lost without them. He went about his daily tasks. He had learned the layout of the ventilation shafts fairly well by now, and was able to go about his routine rather easily. He did his work, his monkey wrenching, quickly. Then he scurried back to the jail, and after making sure that no one was there, he went to the cell to find the shipmaster and the chieftain in the same position, staring at each other.

"Do you want a deck of cards or something. One of the humans taught me a game. Um…Go Fish I think it was."

"No," the shipmaster said. The chieftain sneered.

Kurr sighed, but decided that the two would, at least for now, not kill each other. He actually began to fancy himself the smartest of this little Covenant trio.

---

"Who did you lose?" the shipmaster asked.

Savage (Rtas had learned his given name was Gustavo, and he was called Goose by his friends) spent a lot of time in the jail, playing his little game. Perhaps Kimber had posted him there to make sure that Rtas wasn't harmed, or perhaps he was to make sure Rtas didn't escape. It was annoying. With him there, Kurr couldn't come in without revealing himself, and he wanted the secret of the Unggoy to stay a secret. But Rtas also saw this as a good chance to learn about the humans he was working with.

"Three brothers in the war, one after. Gave his service pistol a blowjob."

Rtas clicked his mandibles. "I'm sorry."

"No you aren't," Savage assured. "Just like we're not sorry about the ones you lost on the _Grace. _Maybe after a while, things will change, but for now. I'm not going to lie. Nicole may, but I won't. I'm not here for your fallen, shipmaster. I'm here because somebody wants the war restarted, and if that happens, I might lose my last brother."

"Thank you for your honesty, private. And thank you for your aid, whatever the reasons. Who did the lieutenant lose?"

"Her husband, Sergeant Timothy Ashton Clark. Well, he wasn't actually her husband. They never officially tied the knot. She wanted to wait till the war was over."

"Where did he fall?"

"Reach." He thought to himself, as if doing some mental calculation. "Nicole should have been with him, she was part of his squad, but she was pregnant with Tim jr. at the time. Got her out of active service.

"How bout you, chieftain, you lose anyone? Did the Spartans kill any of your brothers? We mowed one down with SMG fire on Earth, you know him?"  
The Brute only snorted in reply.

Savage stood up to leave. "And shipmaster, you can tell your Grunt that he's free to come aboard the _Shining Wisdom._ None of the colonel's men come on, and the rest of the squad are mingling. He must be tired of sleeping in the ventilation shafts."

Rtas chuckled. "You are smarter than you let on."

"_We_ are smarter than _you_ give us credit for," Savage corrected.

---

"Is something bothering you?" Kalashnikov asked Kimber, when he found her staring blankly at the stars that were just outside her window. She must have zoned out, she hadn't even heard the door to her quarters open, or the heavy footsteps as the colonel approached. He wrapped her arms around the waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Just thinking," she said.

"Something is bothering you. I may not be your commanding officer but I am your friend."

Kimber thought to herself. "I've been thinking about the Elites."

"Yeah, I used to think about them too, before the treaty. Course, I think about them now, just in a different way I guess. Mortal enemies to an alliance of convenience. Now comrades in arms. It all happened so fast."

"Do you really think we can't trust them?"  
"An assassin came onto my ship, came into my room, and tried to turn me into a Pez dispenser. No, I don't think we can trust them."

"But what motivation would he have?" She had to choose her words carefully, easily. Savage had hacked the _Kingdom Come_'s computers. It would seem that Kalashnikov had not notified anyone of their arrival and resulting stay. If she were killed, if her squad were executed while they slept and the bodies ejected out the airlock, no one would ever be the wiser. Save perhaps the Elites, if indeed Rtas had been keeping the Arbiter up to date. She and the colonel, they were old friends, but if he suspected anything, well, she just had to choose her words carefully.

"Do you hate the Elites?" he finally asked.

"I don't get to hate them. That's not my job."

Breaking away and beside her now, "Do you hate them?"

She thought to herself. "We need the treaty in place, for the good of mankind."

"Do you hate them?"

"They took my husband."

"Yes, just as they took many husbands, and brothers, and sisters, and daughters and sons."

"So how are we supposed to just forgive them? I've had to work with Elites, I've had to help them, and every time I see them I just see one of those lizards pressing a button and blowing up a planet."

He gave that soft smile. "I've something very interesting to show you."

---

It was at night (or at least mostly everyone was asleep on the _Kingdom Come_, space didn't actually have night or day) that Kimber felt it safe to steal away from her personal quarters and slip along, through the ship to the prison that she had visited whenever able.

"You're right, shipmaster. It was him."

Rtas lifted his gaze from the opposing end of the room. He hoisted himself up and waltzed over to her. "He's planning another attack. He brought me in on it."

"Have you decided on a plan? Or shall I have this ship blown out of orbit?"

"The crimes cannot be found out. He has to die a hero."

"Do you have a plan, lieutenant?"

She cast a look to the Brute, shaggy fur and beady eyes and face void of emotion. He was staring right back. "Would you be willing to help us?" she asked. "It would mean the death of many humans. The entire crew in fact. The type of slaughter that you and yours are so fond of."

"Of course, you can trust me. What do you propose?"

"Dead men tell no tales," she said with a tone void of emotion.

No one felt right about it, save perhaps the aliens, but she watched as the faces of her squad turned to horror, then disgust. Save Colt, he was just furious. "We're going to poison them?" he demanded.

"No, poison will show up in the autopsy. We are going to drug them. Then we are going to kill them. With Brute weapons. Eject whatever supplies we have: make it look like an act of piracy. And this whole thing goes away."

"How can we?" Colt asked.

"These are criminals," Kimber explained. "These are warmongers who slaughtered a bunch of civilians. These are monsters."

"Then we should report them, bring them to justice."

"If we do, that _will_ start a war. This is a delicate situation that can best be solved with a baseball bat."

Colt shrunk. "But how can we do this?"

"We are just killing the enemy. Nothing more. We just close our eyes and pretend that they are Elites."

"But this enemy isn't some alien squid faces. These are human beings. These are our people. Our friends."

"But they are the enemy," she said solemnly. "Savage, you'll have to take handle the alarms, cut the power throughout the ship. I don't want any alarms set off on the ship or we'll be facing them all at once."

"Yes lieutenant."  
"Wesson. I want you to take care of the weapons. We need Covenant carbine, Needlers, Plasma rifles, maybe a Gravity Hammer, and lots and lots of ammunition. There should be some in the armory: war trophies. Try and find the shipmaster's sword and armor too, he'll want them."

"Yes lieutenant."

"Colt," she said with a slow, soft smile. "Can you handle this?"

"They're the enemy."

"Yes, they are the enemy. Don't forget it."

**Happy Holidays and such, my friends. Whatever you believe in, whatever your celebrate, if anything at all, may your season be filled with happiness. This is my little gift to you.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

Kimber swallowed her tears as she poured the vial of drugs into the gigantic cauldron of stew, and stirred until the thin liquid was lost in the broth. "Can I help you with something lieutenant?" the cook asked. Dressed in his white clothes stained with assorted soups and dressings. A submachine gun worn on the hip, at his back. He had been busy with chopping vegetables, but now looked suspiciously at her, and the pot, and her.

"It's a little bland," she said innocently.

"I'm feeding five hundred people, I'm sorry that it doesn't just bustle with flavor, ma'am. Most of the crew would rather this than the god awful rations they serve us."

"Of course, but you would be amazed what a little nutmeg can do."

The drugs weren't meant to do anything severe, they couldn't appear when tests were run. They were just to deaden the Helljumper's senses, slow down their reaction time. Even a moment slow on the draw could make a difference. The soldiers took eating breaks in shifts of a quarter of the crew. By the time of the attack, maybe half of everyone would be drugged. Savage had already set the jamming device on a timer. If everything went according to the plan, five hundred lives would be snuffed out within the next few hours. Five hundred of her fellow human beings, just because they had believed in Colonel Kalashnikov. Because they had wanted justice served on the aliens who had slaughtered their families. She felt horrible in the pits of her stomach as she walked through the hallways, slipping into the jail, where she would wait. She couldn't face Colt or Wesson or Savage, not yet. Maybe not for the rest of her lifetime. She was bitter to see Savage sitting in the corner, playing his hand held game, the various beeps and pops sounding off. But she was also happy, because he turned to her and gave a slow, easy smile. Like nothing was wrong. Like they were just going out to the store to pick up some milk.

"Shipmaster," she said. "Chieftan. Private."

Wesson had filled the room with weapons. She immediately picked out a Gravity Hammer, so big that she wondered how Wesson had possibly gotten it here without raising suspicions, sitting proudly atop various pistol and rifles. The armory was lightly guarded, if there were ever any guards at all. Wesson could have slipped the rifles and Needlers under his shirt or in a supply crate and none would have been the wiser, but the hammer?

The Elite with the blue armor and the bad eye had shown her how to use their weaponry. Brute's weapons were remarkably similar to human's, shotguns were shotguns, grenade launchers were grenade launchers. The carbines, with their heated gas and how the clip popped out, where what she was afraid of. She would desire a tutorial before the…mission began. She extended a hand to the hammer and brushed the cold, frosty steel that made her shiver.

"I was not pleased when I was given this operation." She turned to face Rtas as he spoke. "I thought of you as a liability, unwilling to do what was necessary, should push come to shove, as you humans would say. If we had to deal with the Jiralhanae, I did not think you would be capable of holding your own. If we had to deal with humans, I believed you would buckle under the pressure." He bowed his head. "I stand corrected, and I apologize for any disrespect that I have shown you."

"You aren't just saying that so that I will open the cell, right?" she asked with a forced smile. She tapped the control panel, and the crimson sheen that served as the fourth wall shrank and shriveled into nothing. Rtas stepped out, and immediately put the fourth wall back up, trapping the chieftan within. Thantus growled a little, then leaned against the wall and put his head back. Next he moved to the pile of weapons and selected the battle hammer, in all its massive glory. He lifted it up as if it were nothing, and she realized just how strong he really was.

"Do not touch that," Thantus growled.

The shipmaster lifted it into his hands, but quickly set it aside, next to the chieftan's cell. Instead he placed a Needler on his hip, and brandished a barrier shield and a Plasma Rifle. Last, he picked up an energy blade, his energy blade she guessed, somehow he must have been able to tell. He ignited it, danced with it, then sheathed it on his belt. He stretched his under suit and slipped in it (for the first time she realized he was naked and wondered if she should avert her eyes) then clicked each piece of white armor on. He disappeared into a shimmering void, reappearing a moment later. "When?" he asked.

"About an hour before the dinner bell is rung. An hour after that, the jamming frequency is set to go off, cutting off any communications within the ship, as well as preventing them from sending a distress signal out. They shouldn't know what's going on, so long as we go slow, wing by wing." She swallowed a hard lump. "Just like they must have done with the _Blameless Grace_."

Rtas bent down to one knee so that they were almost eye level. She felt ridiculous, it was how an adult would treat a child, but she recognized that this was a noble act, for a shipmaster to lower himself as such. It could be worse after all, he could take her by the collar and lift her to eye level. That would be unbearable. "Lieutenant, you have done much for this cause, you have proven yourself in my eyes, and I shall inform the Arbiter of your dedication to peace." He sighed. "I was there when the Arbiter fought the heretics, though they aren't heretics anymore. It is not easy to spill your brethern's blood, even when you are sure you are fighting for a just cause. Even when I believed them to be heretics, it was not something I did with ease. I will understand if you chose to remain on the _Shining Wisdom _with your men."

"No," she said sharply. "This is a burden that we shall share together."

"Nicole," Savage said, putting his game down. "There's no sense in all of us going to hell."

"Then I think it would be best if you go wait on the ship." That was the end of the discussion. She looked to the Brute, who looked right back at her. "Can we trust the chieftan?"

"No. And when this is all over, he shall be executed by my blade."

"Words said through prison bars tend to lose intimidation. Release me and I will kill you. You would do best to leave me in this cage until I rot."

"Stop it, both of you," Kimber snapped. "For god's sake, can't you get over this bullshit? Shipmaster, six of us are going to be facing down a small army of elite soldiers. We need every able body that we can take, and a nine foot tall rhino ape is very appealing to me. And chieftan, I understand your revulsion towards the shipmaster, everything he's done, I feel it too. I would like nothing more than to see him pay. But this is about survival, yours as well as ours. You can't get off this ship without us, and we may not be able to take it without you. Now make nice, you two."

She turned and walked to the pile of ordinance. What was with the Covenant and the color purple? A Mauler stood out, its black coat contrasting the bright purple and pink. She had seen Elites carry one in each hand. Just to hold it, she needed all the strength in both her arms, and the recoil would probably knock her down, but it would clear out whole hallways. She tried out the Carbine. It was too large and lacked a stock, and wouldn't help her with the close quarters she would undoubtedly be in. It lacked crosshairs, and she was afraid of reloading it. Finally, she settled on a Needler. If a Grunt could use it with any authority, she could too.

Colt came in, slipping into the room without allowing the door to open fully, as if someone may see him. "You sober?" Savage asked.

"Shut the fuck up or I'll shove that Carbine up your ass."

Savage nodded to Kimber, chuckling slightly. Colt snatched up the Mauler, and went to wait in the corner to wait. Savage walked in front of the Brute, and examined the captive as closely as if he were playing one of his games. The Brute stared back. They started talking, about the war, as if they were old friends.

The door to the prison opened again. Nicole turned to see Wesson enter. He looked pale, even paler than the ever pale Savage, who never went out in the sun enough. Given what they would soon be doing, she wasn't surprised. "Shipmaster," he said, saluting Rtas, who was looking over one of the rifles.

"This has no ammunition," he said.

Wesson shook his head and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry sir," he said with a shiver, and stuttered his next words. "I'm not as familiar with your weapons as you are. I didn't even think to check. It's a while before we get under way, I'll go back to the armory and find something."

He nodded, picking through everything. Rtas walked over, and extended a hand to Colt. Kimber breathed a sigh of relief when her private handed the Mauler over without a fight.

"Lieutenant," Wesson said.

She turned to him, and smiled in her motherly way.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," she lied. "If this is the cost of peace, so be it. If I open my wrists with a razor blade after this, so be it. Fiat justitia ruat caelum."

"There has to be another way."

"Andrew, I wish to god there was, but this is the only way. If you want to sit this out, I'll understand. God knows I would if I could. But we need to do this."

His voice fell low enough that the shipmaster wouldn't hear. "We could just pack up and leave."

"We can't do that."

"We can, it would be easy. We tell Lord Hood it was the Brutes. Jesus, why couldn't it be the Brutes. Nobody needs to know. We can talk to the colonel, we can get him to stop."

"The shipmaster knows."

Wesson sighed, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. This is a line that we should not be crossing. Do you understand what we are doing? We can't just kill a hundred people. We can't become the monsters that we fight."

"They crossed the line, not us. They attacked civilians, not us. Go wait on the ship. I don't want to drag you down to hell with me."

"We are already damned."

The door opened one last time. Colonel Kalashnikov stood a little outside the threshold, throwing what at first Rtas mistook as a simple flare: a small round ball of metal with an orange glow at the cracks. When the colonel threw it into the room and it exploded, there was the expected flash, but the flash was accompanied with a force that felt like a Mongoose to the chest. The painful splash threw Rtas and the humans back. Savage, by some cruel twist of fate, crashed into the red fourth wall of the Brute's cell, and screamed in agony as the heat burned his back.

Rtas didn't know how long he was unconscious, if any time at all. Smoke further obscured his blurred vision. His hearing was dominated by a high pitched ringing. But he was alive, and pushed himself up, having had a painful embrace with the farthest wall. This colonel was a dangerous man. He had taken a Jiralhanae creation and made it deadlier.

The smoke cleared, and he was better able to see Kalashnikov as one of his subordinates handed him an assault rifle, which he looked over. There were ten Helljumpers in the room now, aside from the colonel, each armed and aiming at Rtas, who slowly stood up and waited. His sword was still on his belt, his rifle was at his hooves. Useless at the moment. He'd be cut down by a flurry of gunshots after the slightest hostile move.

Savage babbled lowly, and Rtas noticed the smell of burnt meat. The wounded private would be no help, if he even lived through the next few moments. The pain must have been excruciating. He would be forgiven if his body simply gave way.

By now, Kimber was stirring. There were no immediately noticeable injuries, only small lacerations, mostly on the uncovered face. She pushed herself up, and her arms didn't snap. She stood and she wobbled only slightly. Her first movement was to go towards Savage, but one of the Helljumpers stepped in her way and knocked her back. The butt of the rifle into her gut. She reeled forward, sobbing.

"Nicole," Kalashnikov said with a sad, almost mocking tone. He ducked to his haunches and hoisted a dazed Wesson to his feet.

By now, Colt was conscious, bleeding from a gash on his forehead and his popped right ear, holding a limp left arm tenderly, and took a protective place by Kimber. He was unarmed, the Mauler lost. No help at all, save as a meat shield.

"This must be how Caesar felt. To have your closest friend stab you in the back. 'Et tu Brute?'

"I never suspected you. Well, I suspected you. When my man in the library fell silent. When you conviently popped up. But I refused to acknowledge that suspicion. From our time in the trenches, I always knew that I could count on you. I always knew you had my back. How could you betray me? For them? If Andrew hadn't told me of your little plan, I fear what would have happened. My men may have fallen, and the Elite would have walked free of any retribution."

"I'm sorry Nicole," Wesson said, slightly averting his eyes to look down at her, though he returned to aiming at the shipmaster, who had yet make a move.  
"I figured Colt," she chuckled. "I was keeping an eye on him. But you? Was I worth forty pieces of silver, a little more? A little less? Did he give you a place in the Helljumpers, or promise you a promotion?"

"Nicole, you, this whole things, its crossing the line. Do you not understand. We cannot murder our own people. What is the matter with you!"

"And what about him? Trying to restart the war? What was I worth? Tell me."

Wesson shook his head. "Why couldn't we just say it was the Brutes?"

Even if he dove and reached the shield, it would break apart before the humans even had to reload their rifles. One of the more zealous ones would rush forward and bash against him. His Plasma rifle would overheat, and the Needler didn't have the stopping power, not to mention probably every weapon scattered about was empty. He needed his blade, still nestled on his hip, to dive into the center where they would find their superior numbers a hindrance. But the slightest of movements would result in their opening fire and him being cut down in a blur. Two were actually armed with Plasma Pistol, glowing and shaking.

"You are restarting the war," Kimber said, turning to the colonel. "Even if you don't care about the Elite civilians you murdered, you have to at least realize the damage you would be doing to Earth. The Arbiter, the shipmaster, they have struggled to cover up _your_ attack. Do you think they need peace? They could destroy us in one great swoop. They could glass Earth with the press of a button. But they have opted for diplomacy, and they have struggled to maintain it even when there are idiot like you who want the war to continue until there is one side left."

"This isn't about war, Nicole. This is about justice. That those lizards think they can rape and pillage. Can burn us. Can grind us under their hoof. They believe that they are above the even hand. Every single Elite took part in our genocide, and now we should just smile and let that slip? They have to be shown that humanity is not to be fucked with."

"This isn't justice," she shouted. "This is you throwing a hissy fit because you are mad that you wife was taken in the war. We have all been there. We have all felt that loss, but is this what she would want?"

"Greg," Colt said, stepping forward, both hands up, as if he were soothing a wild beast. "Just surrender. We can bury this whole thing. The shipmaster can say it was the Brutes, we can say it was the Brutes, and you and your men can retire. We can just sweep this under the rug. But if you keep this up, you are going to be caught, you are going to be executed, and the war is going to be restarted. That will be your legacy. No one will care about that Medal of Honor, that Purple Heart. They will remember this. Just surrender."

"Fiat justitia ruat caelum," he said, before spraying a burst into Colt's chest. Kimber sprang to action, trying to wrestle the gun from him, but she was easily slapped away without much effort. Kalashnikov aimed at Rtas, but seeing that the shipmaster had yet to move, returned his aim to Kimber.

"Foolish little human," Rtas said with a click of his mandibles.

"Perhaps you don't understand the present numerical advantage that I hold. Take me hostage if you please, my men are under strict orders to shoot through me. And they will, they are all as dedicated to the cause as I."

"Have you captured my Unggoy compatriot?"

"No. Andrew mentioned the Grunt that you smuggled aboard. My men are searching for him. You know how these things go; we will find him hiding in the last dark corner that we check. We should try the radiators, they do love warmth so much. Such a waste of time."

"I can save you some time, colonel. He is located in the ventilation shaft behind me. Under my orders he set several remote explosives at the power generator. Now imagine what will happen when he sets them off."

It took the colonel a moment to realize what he was implying. Before he could give the order to shoot, the lights flicked out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Happy New Year! I wish you all the best in the coming year, and hope that your prior year was tolerable.**

_Chapter 11_

In those seconds before the emergency lights turned on, there was only the dancing glow of a Sangheili energy sword, offering the smallest degree of light. The crimson sheen of blood spilling through the air and splashing on the ground caught the glow. The muzzle flashes of countless rifles gave a flash now and then, but then there was nothing. Truth be told, it was like a performance at a lightshow, the beautiful blue glow and sprays of blood catching the light before it shrank into the shadows. And the sounds, it was overwhelming. Gunshots, screams, roars, swipes, flesh rending, limbs popping, even the ear shattering concussions that accompanied a Gravity Hammer. She was dumbstruck by the beauty until something warm and wet soaked her hand, and revulsion swept over her as she realized it was blood. She backed away along the ground, until something clawed took her by the shoulder and dragged her to the corner, where she remained, pistol at the ready, as if somehow she could determine where to shoot in the shadows. Who should she shoot? The Brute, the Elite, her fellow humans?

The emergency lights flickered on, the jail filled with a red glow, and she swallowed her gorge as she looked about at the countless bodies that lay still, the limbs strewn about, and the blood. It was still oozing along, approaching her, no matter how far she backed away. Looking to her side, she noticed that it was the Unggoy Kurr who had dragged her to the relative safety of the corner, and was standing in front of her defensively with his Needler held high. And farther forward, admits the sea of broken bodies, was the shipmaster and the chieftan, armed with his sword and his hammer respectively, standing at the ready for whoever to make a move first. Honestly, Kimber wasn't sure who to aim at. She couldn't trust the chieftan of course, but did Rtas believe she had sold him out? Kalashnikov had implicated Wesson, but would he accept that? There was Wesson, his face gasping a look of horror and pain, his lower body obliterated by the impact of the Brute's maul. But where was Kalashnikov?

"The colonel slipped out, during the confusion," Rtas said, as if answering Kimber's thought. "To run while his men fell around him. The coward."

The chieftan hammer didn't lower, nor did the shipmaster's blade.

"Stop it," Kimber said, rushing between the two. It was ridiculous, hilarious even, a tiny little human with both hands extended trying to keep a pair of titans at bay. Miniature hands on the Elite's armor and the Brute's fur, as if she could hold them back with her own strength. It was by their choice that she wasn't crushed between them.

"Kalashnikov fled?" she asked. "Then he's going to contact someone, call reinforcements."

"I would doubt it," Rtas said. "To our knowledge, it is only his crew that know of the attacks. Calling in anyone outside of his men could open difficult questions to explain. Our presence, for example. He will want to keep this quiet."

Savage whimpered. Kurr' hand shook so loudly the sound of the metal grip of his Needler colliding with his skin filled the room. The cheiftan noticed one of the Helljumper stirring, gutted yet clinging to life. He didn't lower his hammer or his gaze, but casually put down his foot and settled fully on the soldier's head.

The shipmaster bent over Colt, and after a moment's inspection shook his head remorsefully. Savage had a pulse, however faint. Taking a small pill from some hidden compartment in his armor and holding it between his forefinger and thumb, he pushed it through Savage's lips and petted the throat until he swallowed. "Stay with your wounded."

"No," Kimber said. "I promised that I would share this burden."

"Lieutenant, you have earned my admiration and respect, you needn't do more. "

"Please shipmaster, my word is my bound."

"Kurr," he said. "Bring the private to the _Shining Wisdom_, but be careful about any human patrols. They should be confused with the reactor damaged, but stay out of sight. Start the ship up and be ready for launch. Activate the auto defense in case any of the humans attempt to take it. And try and do something about these burns before he expires."

"Yes sir."

Rtas turned his back on the Brute, who just stood there, hammer still at the ready. The shipmaster bent and looked over one of the human's assault rifles, and finding that it worked despite its bath in the spilled blood, set it on his back.

"You can take the human weapons if you prefer," Rtas said to Kimber.

"Won't that ruin the plan?"

Rtas sighed, looking down. "I am sorry for deceiving you, lieutenant, allow me to explain. If this ship is left intact, there will always be the chance that, somehow, our presence will be discovered. A hoof print, a hair sample, a whiff of methane, you humans are far too intelligent not to find a trace. We were only able to confirm there was an attack on the _Blameless Grace_ because it was left adrift."

"What are you suggesting? Blow this ship up?"

"Of course not, we don't have nearly enough explosives, and then there would be remnants. I am going to set the slip space coordinates to your solar system's sun. The easiest method for complete disposal. It is a trick I learned a long time ago."

"And how do you intend to explain how this ship just disappeared?"

"I do not have to, lieutenant. The colonel saw to it that there is no record of us having entered this ship, and dead men tell no tales. There will be nothing left to scrape a sample of DNA from, our commanding officers can write this however they see fit. The public will believe in a malfunction, or pirates stole it, or the colonel went AWOL. The only thing that matters is that your people's precious ideas of Colonel Kalashnikov remain in place. No one ever need know that a human committed such a heinous crime. Peace shall be preserved."

He turned to Thantus. "If you would like to kill the colonel, be my guest. I have more pressing matters to satisfy, and I don't have time to deal with you."

The chieftan snorted once or twice. He took a step back, foot landing in a carcass and squishing noisily, careful not to slip and leave himself vulnerable. He took another step, and another, and soon he was standing in the threshold of the door, eyes never leaving his rival. Those beady red eyes glowing even in the crimson of the emergency lights. Without a sneer of resentment or a nod of respect, without the slightest movement that could be interpreted as an expression, he was gone.

For how small Grunts may have been, they must have been solid muscle, because Kurr was able to carry the groaning Savage with relative ease. He had an awkward gait, he did his best to hold him by what little skin wasn't seared, and he wouldn't be able to engage any hostiles unless he set the human down, which would take far too long. But hopefully what crew was left were too concerned with the power outage and damage to the generator to bother him.

Kimber was shaking slightly as she followed the shipmaster out of the jail. Could she trust Kurr to protect Savage? Could she trust the Sangheili she now followed like an obedient puppy. And what of the Brute?

The path that Thantus' had taken was obvious. He carved a swath of destruction through any resistance, leaving bodies pulverized and mashed to pieces and where they lay. Not just soldiers even, mechanics, chefs, paramedics. But they would be dead soon enough, after all. "Are you sure about him?" Kimber asked.

"My primary concern is the bridge. If there is time after that, I will confirm his and the colonel's death."

There weren't many guards to deal with. They had gone to tend to the reactor, or the Jiralhanae who was charging through the corridors, shrieking for their commanding officer's head. It helped that Rtas utilized his camouflage as he moved, Kimber barely able to make up the shimmer so she knew what to follow. Most of the crew assumed she was one of them, she was a human in garb after all. Only the most observant noticed she was the enemy, and they were instantly beheaded, or picked up and brain pulverized against the wall.

The bridge was manned with the minimum of people to operate the ship; eight to be exact. They were giving orders, telling what sections needed to be cut off to prevent a leak, what section had to be evacuated. They didn't even notice the shipmaster as his camouflage shriveled and his sword glowed.

Kimber didn't, couldn't, help, but Rtas seemed hardly to mind as he carved a path through the bridge. Right hand holding heavy on the assault rifle's trigger, left hand swinging the blade expertly, slicing any humans who happened to stumble through the torrent of bullets. He didn't seem to need her.

When the bodies lay still, he strode forward and input the coordinates, before swiping the computer with his blade to ensure that they could not be changed.

"Go back to the _Shining Wisdom_. Make sure that Kurr hasn't confused the painkillers with the rat poison. The jump is set for thirty minutes. If I am not at the _Wisdom_ in twenty, go without me."

"Of course sir."

"Twenty minutes, not before," he growled.

"Yes sir. What will you be going?"

"I am going to make sure that the chieftan and the colonel have killed each other."

---

Colonel Kalashnikov didn't move down the hallway with any rush. Partly he genuinely believed he had nothing to fear, he had the utmost faith in his men to handle any situation that rose, but mostly because of the creaking in his knee. At his age, wounds never fully healed, and that broken leg the Elite had given him so many years ago was no exception. It didn't affect him, but he was conscious of it, and it took a certain spring out of his step. It annoyed him, as it was a reminder he was past his prime. "Lock down the reactor, we have to prevent any leaks. Every available unit, Code Purple, we have multiple hostile aboard the ship. Lieutenant Nicole Kimber, Private Jonathon Colt, Private Gustavo Savage, and the Elite and Brute that we were keeping. All are to be shot on sight. Code Purple, I repeat, Code Purple."

The red emergency lights and the blaring sirens, not to mention the fact that his focus was on giving orders, deafened his sense to the point he did not notice the chieftan as he charged down the hallway. For a creature of his stature, he could cover a fair amount of ground, with a fair amount of stealth.

But despite his bursts of stealth, he was still a brute at heart, and could not resist an urge to release a furious bellow when he was roughly five feet away. His fur was soaked with blood and openings were noticeable throughout his thick hide. He didn't show any hindrance, even as the colonel drew his magnum and popped a clip into him.

He reached a massive hand out and took the colonel by the throat, squeezing just enough to make that Kalashnikov lost his focus, unable to shoot even at pointblank range. The chieftan looked about, with the human kicking and squirming in his grip, until he was sure that no passing guard would interrupt his vengeance.

Bones popped when the colonel hit the wall, and he spent a moment just trying to remember how to breathe. The hammer was an incredible weapon. Its power was immeasurable. To be caught by the impact meant certain death. But it was also cumbersome, and difficult to wield in the confines of the room, even in the hands of an experienced user. The colonel rolled backwards to avoid the smashing embrace, and dove into an adjacent room to escape a second smash.

The door was too narrow for a Brute's dimensions, so Thantus merely crashed through the wall. He was met with the pop, pop, pop of the colonel's pistol, a fresh clip stuffed inside. Whatever concept of self preservation Brute's usually had was lost on Thantus, who charged forward. Ripples in his fur marked every bullet's impact, one caught him in the jaw and blew away a part of his cheek, another destroyed one of his eyes. He simply roared and continued, hand outstretched, until he felt Kalashnikov's neck. The colonel stabbed at the leathery fingers that held him, but he couldn't even draw blood. Thantus took his time wiping the blood out of his eyes, even slower did he squeeze Kalashnikov's neck shut.

"Were the kiddies yours?" he choked out. "That ship we attacked. By the time we got to the cargo hold, ammunition was running low, and we open the door and there are a bunch of little wide eyed chimps staring back at us."

Thantus roared and swung, and Kalashnikov collided with the wall. Broken bones pressed against the skin. Dizziness in his eyes. Had he stayed in the Brute's grip, he would have been crushed, so the crushing pain was preferable. He pulled two fresh blades from his vest as the Brute roared and rampaged. Massive arms swung. There was nothing left in him. No reason, no thought, just an animal.

"No one wanted to go back to the ship and restock on ammo," the colonel said. Blurred vision and broken teeth, a heaviness in his lungs that implied puncture, that they were filling with blood. He needed immediately medical attention or he would drown. The Brute was still worse. He was stumbling and breathing heavy. A shell that would crumble after another moment.

"So we just shot what we could and bludgeoned the rest. Cute things, they were. Little tykes, couldn't even figure out how to use the Needlers. But business is business, and the last thing we needed is for a Sangeheili to find the vessel and interrogate the little ones."

He rolled to his side as the Brute charged, and instead Thantus burst through the wall, smashing into the hallway. He leaned heavily on the hall, blood smearing where his soaked fur touched. His wounds were taking their toll, he was slow to rise, and that the colonel kept pop, pop, popping bullets into his hide didn't help. He charged again, or perhaps he stumbled forward by pushing off the wall. Kalashnikov ducked and jammed both blades into the Brute's back, and danced out of reach as the Brute swung.

He roared and shifted, clumsy arms trying to reach behind him to pluck the sharp blades out of the mass of fur. He stumbled, knocking over tables and punching through walls. The colonel was careful as he approached. He dodged the swinging, tree trunk sized limbs, and jabbed his last knife into a special spot of the throat, just beneath the chin. He held it there, pushing it deeper, until the handle was almost swallowed by the flesh, fur lips.

Kalashnikov choked as he stumbled out of the room through the massive hole that the Brute had made, he didn't have the strength to open the door. He fell to his knees, vomiting out the blood before he tried to stand back up. "I need someone to come pick me up," he said into his radio, but only static sounded as the reply. He looked about. "Near the east wing, personal quarters. I need someone." Sighing, he decided that he may very well have to struggle and shamble all the way to the medical wing, somehow not succumbing to his wounds.

It felt like a pair of sledgehammers, two, swung together and meeting at either side of his ribs. He didn't have to look down to know that the Brute had taken him around the chest in one of his massive hands, and in an instant squeezed. It felt like he was throwing up. Something boiled up his throat and his mouth filled with the taste of blood. The pressure grew tighter and he vomited out the contents of his chest.

When he was still a child, he had dreamed of being a doctor, and had read volume after volume of medical journals to learn anatomy. In school, he had dissected a pig, then regular human cadavers. He learned everything. And that had come in handy on the fields of battle. If a needle clipped a comrade's lungs, if a bit of shrapnel stung the heart, he learned what to do to keep them alive. He had learned about everything that lived beneath the skin by dissecting the pigs, then his fellow soldiers. There were always bodies after all. All the people the Covenant killed. Not just the ones who were shot either. The ones who starved and died of exposure because there wasn't any food to eat or a place to live. He had seen men, their lower half blown apart by trip mines and their intestines stringing out where their legs should have been. Men gutted by the Jackals, their blood and stomachs slipping out and them struggling to hold it in. He had seen everything. The heart, the lungs, intestines, kidneys, all the guts, all the stuff beneath the skin, that's what he saw burst out of his mouth when the Brute squeezed, because it had nowhere else to go.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

This isn't how Thantus wanted to die. Yes, the colonel was crushed in his grip, his pack could rest in peace, if there was peace to be had. But none of his wounds were immediately fatal. How nice it would have been for the colonel to turn and shoot him through the eye just as he squeezed, but such was not to be. He didn't have the strength to attempt to flee, so he just had to wait. Death would be slow and agonizing. Not fighting with his last breath, but left to either bleed out or fall victim to some passing rookie with a pistol. Let him return to his brethren and boast of his victory over a dreaded chieftain, there was nothing Thantus could do.

Instead it was the shipmaster who materialized in his field of vision, emerging through the shimmering air and his own hazy sight. Rtas looked to the dead colonel, and all the stuff that should have been on the inside now on the outside, and chuckled. He eased Thantus' grip loose and cast the body aside. With a great deal of effort, perhaps more than it was worth, Thantus managed to roll onto his back so he could more easily face the shipmaster. A finger touched beneath the chin at the saturated fur, brushed the knife's handle.

"I'm dead," Thantus spat, gravely baritone voice drowned in blood.

"Yes. There is nothing to be done."

"My pack has been avenged."

"That is good."

"I can die in peace."

"That is all any of us can hope for."

Thantus held his chest as he tried to breath, his face as the blood gushed from his wounded cheek and neck with each heartbeat. The fact that he could speak at all was a marvel of Jiralhanae endurance. "I do not wish to die by a human's hand."

Rtas nodded. "You shall not."

"My hammer, please."

Rtas went into the room through the hole that Thantus had made and retrieved the massive weapon, carrying it over his shoulder. He helped Thantus to stand, taking a substantial amount of the burden, and gave him the hammer to use as a crutch. Even then, at any moment, he was likely to collapse.

The blade cut into the chieftain's chest, the tips bursting out his back and sizzling on the hot blood and burning the fur. Rtas held Thantus up as he gurgled and whimpered. He waited until Thantus went limp, one last heaving breath, to pull the blade out and he set the body down with care that was unbefitting the situation. Killing the chieftain bothered him more than he thought it would, but he tapped his camouflage back on and hurried off to the _Shining Wisdom_, before Kurr got antsy and decided to take off.

None of the crew must have realized what was happening. They still believed that all they had to worry about was containing the reactor. They still believed their beloved colonel was alive and that the big bad Covenant would be taken care of. They still believed they would kill the intruders and go back to the righteous slaughter. As the _Shining Wisdom_ lifted off the ground and glided out of the ship's hanger, Rtas had to wonder. Someone had to have stumbled upon the slaughter at the bridge, and perhaps noticed the destroyed controls, but they most likely would have passed it as damage from the chieftain's rampage. They would have had more important issues, they wouldn't have bothered to check if the slipspace coordinates had been set. From the cockpit of the _Shining Wisdom_, from a safe distance away, he watched as the _Kingdom Come_ disappeared into the vast, endless expanse of black, lights trailing as it leapt. No escape pods were released, and the hangar had been full.

The _Shining Wisdom_ was small enough that it would be able to slip away without anyone noticing. It would be days before anyone even noticed that the _Kingdom Come_ was outside of its patrols, and even that suspicion may be excused; perhaps the colonel was off killing Brutes, which no one acknowledged but everyone did. Maybe that's what the humans meant by "don't ask, don't tell."He put the ship on autopilot and went to clean his armor of the various bloods that now stained it. It was more red than white. Then he went and checked to find Kurr in his room, sleeping comfortably on his bed, sprawled and lazy and beside a portable radiator that filled the whole room with a wave of heat. Kimber was in her room, and Savage was on her bed, lying unconscious on his belly. Back taped heavily yet still soaked with crimson, a dozen bloodied rags strewn over the floor, sedatives pumping into his arms through the array of tubes. The _Shining Wisdom _didn't have a large stock of medical supplies, but whatever she could scrounge was in use. Rtas let her hear his hoofsteps.

"How is he?"

"Fourth-degree burns on a little less than half of his body. I'm keeping him knocked out until we get to a proper medical facility. Hopefully infection won't set in until then. He'll need a skin graft surgery and rehabilitation after. I don't know how much damage was done to the nerves and spinal column."

"He's strong," Rtas said, placing a hand on her shoulder before he even realized he was. He was mildly amused that she didn't shiver or flinch. She was probably just too worried about her man. The smell of burnt flesh and puss was overwhelming. A smell he had known when he had taken a flamethrower to the human masses. "I'm sorry for your fallen."

She didn't respond immediately, and Rtas wondered if he should leave. He was sorry. He felt the death of Jonathon Colt in a way he didn't think he should have.

"You going to kill me?" she finally asked.

"Excuse me lieutenant?"

"I'm not stupid, I know how black-ops stuff goes. Secrets got to be kept. Me and Goose, we're loose ends. Are you going to kill me?"

Rtas' orders, given to him by the Arbiter, were simple: handle the situation. Nothing more, nothing less. Handle the situation. "It may look suspicious if we dock at Earth. We are headed for Cairo Station. Private Savage can get proper treatment there. I have contacted Lord Hood and informed him what has happened. He will be there to greet you."

"You sure you don't want to kill me? I can't wait to explain all this shit to him. Why two of my squad are dead, why a decorated colonel has mysteriously disappeared, why a Destroyer is now careening through slipspace towards the sun." She was quiet a while. She put Savage's hand down and stroked a tender finger over his wounds. "You took my husband," she said lowly. "I can't forgive you for that, no matter what. I can never forgive you for taking the only man I ever loved away from me. I can never forgive you for forcing my son to grow up without a father. But for giving my son the chance to grow up in a time without war, for postponing your vengeance in the interest of peace, for that I am truly thankful."

"Its has been an honor, lieutenant."

The _Shining Wisdom_ entered Cairo Station through a, while not hidden, entrance, one that was very rarely used. The medical unit came onto the _Shining Wisdom_ and stabilized Savage before they would even attempt to move him. One of the doctors said to Kimber, with a low voice that he must have thought the shipmaster couldn't hear, that the damage was severe, but there was a good chance he would pull through. The simple fact that he had survived this long was a good sign. Rtas stayed out of their way, and waited until they left to see the lieutenant off, into the awaiting arms of Lord Hood and his personal guard.

Rtas watched as the lieutenant saluted and the lord saluted back. The lord gave him no acknowledgement, and to be honest, he had no desire to talk, so he casually climbed back into his ship, waiting patiently for the humans to clear away from the _Shining Wisdom _before he pulled out.

His next destination, the _Shadow of Intent_, was reached after a slipspace jump. He landed and left Kurr to continue sleeping in his warmth. He was a good soldier. He deserved this time, before the next human with a grudge decided to start something. He knew the way to the Arbiter's office, and found the Arbiter typing on his monitor, looking over reports of attacks and future assaults against the Jiralhanae insurgents. The planned glassing of Doisac, once they had the resources to spare. Without Truth's guiding word, the Jiralhanae lacked the leadership to mount any significant threats, but the Council felt it better safe than sorry.

"Did you have fun with the humans?" he asked, looking through the spread of holograms that lifted from his desk.

Rtas thought to himself. "It was eventful to say the least, enlightening at the most. Have you given the report to the Council?"

"Yes. The _Shining Wisdom_ fell victim to a Jiralhanae raid. The brave Sangheili fought with vigor and to the last man, refusing to be taken prisoners of war. The humans will see to it that the official story for the _Kingdom Come_ is a glitch led to a malfunction with the slipspace drive. Colonel Kalashnikov and his crew shall be mourned for many years to come, a good soldier tragically killed by nothing but an accident. A horrible twist of fate. He'll probably get a plaque. Me, you, that Unggoy, Lord Hood, and the surviving humans, we are the only ones who know the every detail. The truth." He sighed sadly. "A deception on the scale of the Great Journey. Our people put their faith in us to lead them to the light, and we do nothing but drag them deeper into the shadows."

"It was the right thing to do brother," Rtas assured, "for the continuation of peace, even if it doesn't feel right. The humans, and our people, do not deserve to be deceived again, but they do not deserve another war either. The humans deserve their heroes, and they deserve our support."

"I must admit, your attitude seems much more agreeable."

"It was wrong of me to judge the squad that was given to me. The human, Lieutenant Kimber, has proven herself a competent and intelligent individual, a soldier worthy of my trust."

"That is good to hear brother. Though Colonel Kalashnikov's actions make me wonder."

"The fate of a world isn't determined by its best examples, but by its worst," Rtas said, reciting an old Sangheili hymn. "But that does not just apply to the humans. There are ours who see the humans as ants to be exterminated, and there are Jiralhanae who are honorable and intelligent. It is not fair to judge a people by the misdeeds of others. It is people like the lieutenant that give me hope for the humans, and it is the soldiers like you that give me hope for our people."

"Thank you brother. Jiralhanae?"

"Nothing," Rtas said quickly. "I am simply making a point, that we must judge each as a separate person, and not allow our vision to be tainted."

"You are wise brother." He thought to himself. "Jiralhanae?"

"It is nothing."

"Of course," he said with a snicker. "If your interactions with the humans were so pleasurable, perhaps you would like to accept a position as ambassador."

"If it is alright, I would like to return to the position that my rank offers me."

"Of course brother, you have earned that much. Though, should a situation like this, that requires the steady hand and a keen mind, come up, I hope that I can count on you. Even if it requires working with the humans again."

Rtas nodded. "It would be an honor."


	13. The Commentary

**Kingdom Come Commentary**

**(Spoilers ahead. I mean seriously, how the hell would you even get here if you haven't already read the story. Just read the whole thing first, then read this. Trust me, it's for the best. The story may not have a lot of twists, but they are there and they are fun.)**

Normally I would have a little paragraph at the end of each chapter, explaining a few of the things I was doing or what I was thinking. Instead, I decided to write an entire commentary, so that I don't reveal anything important. I think I might start doing it for all my stories, cause I personally like watching the commentary of movies and video games. I hope you enjoy getting inside my head. Besides, I adhere to the ancient code of: "Don't like, don't read." So if you don't care about this, don't read it.

When I decided that I wanted to do another Halo fic, I had two possible ideas. One was a direct sequel to _**In a Mad World**_, and would have involved that cast facing the threat of the Flood, as well as the fallout of the commander's death during a raid on the Brutes. The focus would have been on Rebecca as well as a new Elite character, since I didn't like how any of the Elites came out in that story. I also would have introduced a character, similar to Thantus: a Brute chieftan who would build a rough alliance with the Elites and the humans, understanding that a) his side has lost the war and his kind is as good as extinct, b) the threat of the Flood is mutually dangerous, and c) he would offer his services and eventually allow himself to be executed at the end in exchange for the immunity and protection of his children. There would have been the strong tension, between Rebecca, the Elite, and the Brute, the same thing you see in _**Kingdom Come**_. However, I eventually decided that _**In a Mad World**_ was just a lost cause, and I decided to start fresh. A lot of those ideas live on anyway.

The second fic that I was working on I was calling _**Beta**_ because it was both one of two Halo ideas, as well as my second Halo fic in general. The core idea came after reading Sl'askia's _**Halo: The Warrior's Agenda.**_ I had a few problems with that fic, mostly what I see too much on this page and also in the games: the Elite were the villains; the Elites and the humans were buddy/buddy, instead of an uneasy, even hostile treaty; what few Brutes had no characterization to speak of; the human are never demonized; Grunts got no love; no development of the villain. (I'm not knocking Sl'askia's fic. Well, I am, but I gave it a lot of praise and I would advise anyone to read his franchise). From the very basic idea of Sl'askia's fic, someone trying to restart the war, I eventually came up with my own story, and then completely changed the main villain's motivation, moving away from trying to restart the war and more towards a perverted sense of justice.

For the longest time, actually up until the day that I posted, I could not think of a title. I was thinking of "E tu Brute?" as a reference to the large amount of betrayals, "Justice", "Justice for All", "Détente", "Easing Tensions" and "Fiat Justitia Ruat Caelum". The ship, the _Kingdom Come_, was also going through such names as the _Blind Justice_, the _Pale Rider_, _In his Embrace, The Noble Sheppard,_ The _Pale Sheppard, _and _The_ _Alone in this World_. Each had an impact on the story that I would have been referenced, but about an hour before I posted, I came up with _Kingdom Come _for both titles for a few reasons: biblically, Kingdom Come refers to Judgment Day reflecting the colonel's sense of justice; "Blown to Kingdom Come"; and the heavy religious theme that seems to go with all the UNSC's ships.

From the start of writing, I wanted to use Rtas and Kurr. Rtas, unlike the Arbiter, still shows animosity towards the humans, so he fit very well with the theme of tension. Consistently, he has been shown to have a very strong bond with his soldiers, so it wasn't a stretch for him to being feeling such grief and doubt. His remorse for not only the civilians, but the men he had lost against the humans and the Flood gives him a real sympathy and depth, even when he was acting violent and cruel (choking out Kimber is a prime example). Also, he's fucking awesome. Just naming him in a story increases its awesomeness by 10%. Kurr was the only good thing that came out of _**In a Mad World**_, so naturally I wanted to bring him back. He fits a lot of needs: comic relief, Rtas' adjutant, a neutral comrade for Thantus and Rtas. He could also be on Rtas' side, while the humans had their own little clique, and give someone for Rtas to talk to and count on.

I had to use OC humans because almost every human in the game has been killed off, save Hood and he just wouldn't fit (I don't read the novels, I don't know who is still alive in those). Kimber probably would have been Amanda Keyes if she was still alive, since I liked Amanda's character a lot, and I think Rtas would have respected her, though still felt some hostility, given the number of Elites she kills. Kimber started as very loving and having no real problem with Rtas. She acted as an arbiter and buffer between the spiteful Colt and the equally spiteful Rtas, though did show some disdain towards Rtas. Instead I made her a little deeper: she despises the Elites for everything they have done, she suffers from survivor's guilt for losing her husband and fears for the future of her child, and struggles to hide her hatred and continue with the mission. She also originally had no prior relationship with the colonel, but making her friends with the villain and hate her partner made for better chemistry. Colt was a little simpler in writing. He isn't meant to be complex. He has given into his hatred and makes no effort to hide it, yet he understands why he is on this mission. He deeply cares for Kimber, so he will tolerate Rtas. Because he is fairly two-dimensional, I ended up avoiding writing about him, since he grows stale too fast. For Savage, I finally settled on making him nerdy and obsessed with video games as his central point. As I was writing, I realized I need someone who knew about hacking and cameras, and he fit the bill. He also had a few interesting interactions with Rtas, his spite is a little more subtle and hidden behind a friendly smile. More importantly, since he's the geek, he doesn't interact with the _Kingdom Come's_ crew, so he has more time to work with Rtas and Thantus. Thantus even talks to him on occasion. Developing him takes some of the strain off Kimber being overexposed. Wesson was just a background character, you don't even notice him, which is why he could betray Kimber without her noticing. I wanted to keep the focus on the unstable Colt so Wesson could slip under the radar.

I wanted to avoid that typical madman as the villain, which is a huge problem in Halo, as far as I'm concerned. Seriously, Truth was a crappy villain, any second I was expecting him to start stroking a white Persian cat. The colonel is meant to be a normal guy, lacking that bad guy scar over his eye or anything that immediately screams bad guy. He's also hands-on, not really using minions as much as someone like Truth. When making the colonel, I had three major sources to draw on: Friedrich Nietzsche's Ubermensch theory, Lazarus Long's competent man, and Tony Stark/Ironman. I swear to god, merge those three together, and you get the original idea for the colonel.

I made the colonel, while not superhuman on the caliber of the Master Chief, above average. Beating Rtas to submission with a fire extinguisher, going toe to toe with a chieftan, even a wounded chieftan, takes some doing. He is as great as a human can become without genetic argumentation. Competent man thing is his extreme intelligence. Fluency in Latin, knowledge of martial arts, knowledge of engineering to have drawn up the ideas for a chainsaw mounted assault rifle, planning out countless attacks on Sangeheili vessels, bettering the Brute's flares and prisons. Lastly, Ironman. The colonel survived something that should have killed him. Seeing that he is alive, he feels that he must have survived for a purpose, and that it is his duty to help mankind. I wanted if he was guilty to be a little ambiguous. I think people would go with what Rtas said, but at the same time they understand Kimber's hesitance to pass judgment on him. Kalashnikov's motto, "Fiat justitia ruat caelum" is Latin for "Justice should the sky fall" which is his character. The Elites _are_ guilty of vast crimes against humanity, and he does not want to see them get off without punishment. He's morality to a fault, unable to forgive, and unable to move on, which is something that Kimber, Colt, and Savage all had to learn. At the same time; he's charismatic, an excellent soldier, resourceful, and quirky with his Latin phrases that the reader starts to like him, at least I hope. He's well educated and well spoken, and straight with Kimber that he does _some _stuff outside the system, the extent of which he doesn't reveal until he feels he can trust her. He's a family man who carries a picture of his children around at all times. When Rtas attacks him, his first concern is if his men are alright. Immediately, the reader hopefully sympathizes with him, even if they immediately recognize him as the one responsible for the _Grace_'s attack.

How he should be killed went through some different ideas. I went with this one because Thantus told him he was going to crush him in his grip, and I like that sort of foreshadowing. Also, I really thought that Thantus deserved his vengeance so that he could be at peace, once I decided he was going to die. Of the other ideas: one was for it to play out how it did, but for Rtas to impale him instead of Thantus crushing him. A third idea was for Kimber and Rtas to confront him with evidence of his crimes. Kimber gives him his side arm with one bullet, allowing him the nobility of a suicide, and then no one would find out about his crimes. I liked this because it was more the quiet, political thing, since I really avoided huge shoot outs through the whole story. The problem with this was what to do with the other Helljumpers. Also, I was playing with the idea of rather than Rtas simply setting the slipspace coordinates, he was going to contact a black-ops unit of Sangehieli Rangers, who would covertly board the _Kingdom Come_ and slaughter everyone on board, making it look like a Jiralhanae attack. The problem with this was that I wanted a minimum of people to know about the attack and cover up, and having a whole additional squad of Elites just led to too many. A spin off of this idea was for Thantus to contact Cascus (mentioned in passing in a prior chapter) and his pack and warn them about a planned attack. Cascus and his pack would be able to turn the tides of the raid, with Kimber and Rtas also killing any Helljumpers as they attempted to reach the _Wisdom_. Cascus would then capture Rtas and Kimber, but Thantus would allow them to flee. This ending just didn't play well with the story.

Thantus was written because more and more, I'm liking Brutes on a level that is almost equal with the Elites. And, shamefully, no one seems to be writing Brutes with any depth to them. They're just furry cannon fodder for the heroes to kill or to kill the throw away heroes. Thantus is a parallel to Rtas: a very high ranking soldier of his own kind, intelligent, brutal, and really feeling every one of his comrades that is taken, having lost soldier after soldier in the war and just recently (after realizing the Great Journey was a hoax; ie, no afterlife) has experienced great personal loss (Rtas lost the _Grace,_ Thantus lost his pack). Putting Rtas and Thantus in two separate cells, then together, works for pacing and building the relationship. If they were together to begin with, they would have killed each other because they have no sympathy for each other. Because they are separate, alone, and recognize the similarity of their situation, they ease into a very rough truce, if only so that they'll have someone to talk to. Thantus also establishes he does not care if Rtas kills him or if he kills Rtas, all he cares about is killing the colonel. Rtas has to respect that, the dedication to his men. Putting them in the same cell is the next phase of their relationship: they've felt each other out just enough that they won't kill each other on sight. Rtas tried but stopped. They've been humanized, however slightly, in the other's eyes, no longer being the faceless enemy on the battlefield but fellow prisoners under a murderous tyrant. They understand that, just maybe, their views have been unjustified, and however slightly they are in the wrong. They still hate each other mind you, but have mellowed a little. And once the common enemy is dead, they would allow old hatred to flourish. But for the moment, they channel their hatred at Kalashnikov.

For a long time, I wasn't sure if I should kill him. I have that problem whenever I write characters, since I end up liking them so much I don't want to see them die. Stupid, I know, but I'm stupid a lot of the time. There were three possible endings for him. One was the one that I posted, and obviously the one that I chose. The second one was for Rtas to find him, and him to say that death is a release and he can be at peace now. Rtas, actually not wanting to kill him having grown to respect him, rationalizes that to let him live would be greater torture than to euthanize him, and carries him aboard the _Shining Wisdom._ He's abruptly imprisoned, but if I ever decided to do another Halo fic, he would be there to use. The end (or possibly some one-shots) would be Kimber and Rtas visiting him in the cell. Kimber could have a closer relationship with him. She lost Timothy to Elites, not Brutes, so however slightly she prefers Thantus. The third idea was for Thantus to go charging after the colonel, as happened. Rtas would set the coordinates, then accompany Kimber to the _Shining Wisdom_. Thantus would confront the colonel as he did, then with his last bit of strength stumble off to the escape pods, leaving his fate ambiguous.

I think his dying is for the best. I couldn't see Rtas not making sure that the colonel was dead, so him going onto the _Shining Wisdom _didn't work. Once Rtas found Thantus, he couldn't let him go, so his only option would be life imprisonment, or a public execution, which would have been a loss of honor. At the same time, Thantus has avenged his pack and has nothing else to live for. He knows that his species is dead and accepts his fate. Lastly, Rtas euthanizing him is a bit of mutual respect, with Thantus wanting to die honorably at the hand of a warrior of equal skill, and Rtas honoring his dying wish, even giving his hammer back.

Like Kimber would have been Amanda Keyes, Thantus would have been Tartarus had the lore allowed. (Obviously, I would have made changes to the overall plot and characterization, but Tartarus is so freaken cool. Cooler than the Arbiter, not quite as cool as Rtas). I could draw on Tartarus' doings on Harvest during the books, his prior conflicts with the Arbiter and possibly Rtas during Halo 2. I think he had a very interesting relationship with the Arbiter in the first half of Halo 2, but for some strange reason we kill Tartarus, who was awesome and could have gone on and on, and instead have to deal with Truth for another half a game, then Gravemind.

I hope you have enjoyed this little insight, and I hope that you enjoyed the story as a whole. I am thinking of a third Halo fic, but if it will ever amount of anything is anyone's guess. I am happy with how this came out, but at the same time I'm not sure I'm ready to leave. Thank you for reading, and please leave a review if you like.

-Exilo


End file.
